


The Naughty Omega

by AlantheCat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ABO, Alpha Castiel, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Arranged Marriage, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, I apologize if I have forgotten any tags., Light Bondage, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Mpreg, Omega Dean, Prostate Massage, Prostate Milking, Punishments, Rimming, Spanking (non con), Top Castiel, alpha/beta/omega
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-09-12 20:28:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9089503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlantheCat/pseuds/AlantheCat
Summary: When Dean's doctor tells his father that he will die if he continues to be alone through his heats, John arranges a marriage between his son, a feisty, won't-take-orders-from-anyone-omega, and a wealthy, lawyer, alpha, Castiel Novak, in order to save his life. Dean has a fighting spirit and refuses to be alright with the forced-union between him and a man whom he doesn't love, yet feels a strange attraction to...  Castiel is a strong, cold alpha who would rather have a good, obedient little omega than one who challenges his will at every turn. Will the two ever learn to get along and fall in love? Or will their relationship crash and burn in flames?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this fic. If you did, please leave me a comment and tell me what you thought of it. (:

Beep. Beep. Beep. SLAM! Dean's hand darted out like grease lightning and pummeled his alarm clock. It tumbled right off of his night table and hit the ground with a thud! No more noises emanated from it.

  
This would be the fifth alarm clock he would have to replace this month, and going out and buying the devices had started to become a chore- especially since the cashier gave him funny looks every time he did so...

  
It wasn't her fault though; Dean would be willing to bet that she had never seen any other customer, much less an Omega, return to buy so many alarm clocks. Often, Dean just got fed up with going out and shopping for them every time he broke one, so sometimes he would approach the register with an armload of them... The cashier probably knew that wonders never ceased by now.

  
Dean lay in bed for several minutes, staring up at his pale white ceiling in peace, until he realized that he had to get up for a doctor's appointment and be there in 30 minutes. That put the kibosh on his Sunday-morning relaxation.

  
He sat up in bed, stretched his arms above his head, and then made a leap out of it, which promptly got thwarted by the sheets that were still tangled around his legs, and he was sent sprawling on the floor. Fuck his life.

  
"Dean are you okay in there!?!" It was his father, John Winchester. He was banging with a single fist against the hard, oak wood instead of barging inside like he used to (as he learned the last time about the gift of privacy when he had found Dean masturbating violently), and kept time to the knocking with his foot, which he was tapping impatiently.

  
"Yes Dad, I'm fine!" Dean shouted back. With a groan, he untangled himself and stood up, moving towards his bathroom with its much-enticing warm shower.

  
"Good. Now hurry up, you're going to be late to your doctor's appointment!" John was relentless.

  
"Yeah yeah, I'm moving." Dean muttered with a roll of his eyes.

  
His father was a good man, he really was, but sometimes the omega wanted to strangle him. Both John and his little brother Sam forced Dean to go to a " _special_ " doctor's appointment every three months without fail- usually about a week after his last heat. Since Dean never took a knot during his heat cycles (as he detested the thought of having to raise a whiny little brat pup), he was at risk for many things. His body couldn't continuously go through the kind of heats that he went through for much longer... in fact, no omega's body could, for most were mated and married by age 20. Dean was 32 and alone. Eventually his body would cave- Dean just didn't think that it would be any time soon.

  
Dean made his way into his bathroom, only pausing to turn on the lights and the fan and shut the door. He shucked off his clothes, turned on the shower, and jumped right in. Big mistake. With a squeak, he dove right back out of the tub and onto the soft, fluffy mat outside of it and began to shiver. The water had been colder than ice, and he had paid dearly for his carelessness.

  
"Dean, are you alright in there?" Sam called from outside of the door. He sounded worried. "I heard you scream!"

  
"I'm fine, Sammy!" Dean growled. "Just underestimated the temperature of the water's all."

  
"Be careful... I don't want to lose my brother to a slip-up in the shower." Sam said, stepping closer to the door. "You know you have a doctor's appointment in 25 minutes, right?"

  
"Yeah yeah I know..." Dean groaned, eyeing the stream of water that spouted out of the shower head.

  
"Dean, this is important."

  
"Right, Sammy. I'll be there."

  
The omega cocked his head and darted his hand out under the spray only to immediately jerk it back with a hiss and a curse, his burnt hand clutched tightly to his chest.

  
"Dean, I'm serious. This is your health we're talking about." Sam reprimanded, completely oblivious to his brother's situation on the other side of the door.

  
"'We're not talking about anything. This is between me and the doctor, Sam." Dean growled back. He narrowed his eyes at the faucet, and gripping the handle, turned the temperature down. He could get this right.

  
"Do I have to go with you to make sure you get there? I'm not a fool, I know how much you hate these things." Well, points to the moose, he sure was persistent.

  
"I already said I would go." The omega said exasperatedly. It was beginning to dawn on him that he'd left his bedroom door locked... "Hey... How the hell did you get in here?" A nervous chuckle answered him.

  
"Hehe, I don't understand the question, hehe." Sam's wasn't the voice of innocence.

  
"You made a key for my door again, didn't you?" Dean said flatly.

  
"Hey, you can't blame me for loving and caring for my big brother, can you?" Sam protested, already beginning to retreat away from the bathroom.

  
"Have you ever heard of a little person called, 'privacy'? I really think the two of you should get together sometime for coffee and a nice little chat." Dean retorted. His omega was bristling underneath his skin. No one in his home or family respected him, and it was beginning to get on his nerves.

  
"Dean, if I thought you would take care of yourself, by yourself, then I wouldn't have had this key made. Now hurry up and get your ass in the shower. You've got to leave in 10 minutes, and you still need to grab some breakfast on the way out."

Damnit. Sam was using that protective, motherly voice again. It wasn't necessarily that of an alpha, but it was, nevertheless, a voice that Dean listened to. So with a heavy sigh and a roll of his eyes, Dean leapt into the lukewarm shower and grabbed the soap.

  
It only took him 7 minutes to complete his shower. Between hurrying to get clean in time to go, and his shorter-than-normal shower routine (he skipped the concert), he made it out of the front door in record time (half-thinking to himself that he deserved an Olympic gold medal to show for it) and into his dad's 1965, turquoise Thunderbird convertible.

  
"Damn, I hate you." Dean muttered to the car as he settled into the driver's seat with a sigh. If it were up to him, he would have gotten a nicer, classier car that was any color besides the cheap, ugly blue of this one.

  
He should be thankful that he was even allowed behind the wheel of this stupid thing, as most omegas were not allowed to drive a car as trashy as this, much less _any_ other vehicle on the road. Even so, Dean figured that John kind-of sort-of gifted the Thunderbird to him in the hopes that any civilian who watched him drive by them in it would be too busy pitying him to judge or raise an eyebrow at an omega with a driver's license... not that they would know he was an omega from that distance.

  
With a twist of his keys, the engine roared to life, and with a gentle push to the gas pedal, Dean was off! The drive to the doctor's office wasn't a long one by a long shot. He lived only about 10 minutes away from it in a rural, suburban part of town that didn't get much traffic on a bad day, so he made it to the office right on time... unfortunately.

  
He pulled into the parking lot as usual, and drove his car over to his normal spot before turning off the engine, pulling out the keys, and setting the parking break. And then he proceeded to sit there. And sit there. And sit there until the young, redhead receptionist was beside his door and knocking on his window. He rolled it down for good measures.

  
"Hello, gorgeous. Whatcha doin' at my door, by any chance? Need a good time?" He purred, turning on his false-alpha, playboy charm that all the ladies used to love... before he presented as an omega.

  
"Hello, pighead. I was just wondering when you were going to get out of 'The Dumpmobile' and go inside. Your appointment is in literally-" she glanced down at her watch, "-one minute." Dean grimaced.

  
"Ouch- you could always be a little nicer to your man, Annie." The cocky grin was back.

  
"The name's Anna. And I would be- but I wouldn't want you to be getting any ideas." Now she was smiling too. This was a game that they played every time he came: he would arrive at the office, sit out in his car for several minutes, she would come out to get him, he would hit on her relentlessly, and she would shoot him down as cruelly as possible. It was all fun banter and empty of any malice- they'd known each other too long to offend one another.

  
"What about the paperwork that I need to fill out?" Dean asked, biting his lip in the hopes that Anna would give him enough of it to prolong the appointment starting-time, and shorten the session.

  
"You can do it after it's over. Right now, I need you to hustle and get inside. Mr. Shurely is waiting for you." Anna said. She reached through the window and unlocked the door, then she slid her left hand through the handle and jerked it open, and with the other hand, grabbed ahold of Dean's arm and dragged him out of the vehicle.

  
"Ouch! Your fingernails hurt, beta!" He yelped as he was pulled behind the receptionist, struggling in vain to relieve the pressure on his arm.

  
"They wouldn't hurt if you'd just come along willingly." Anna retorted, opening the office door and shoving him inside. "Hurry up and go to the back, room number-" she paused for a moment, raising up her fingers as if to count the number of rooms in the building. "-Ah nevermind- MEG!" She called to her short, dark-haired, **_alpha_** , assistant receptionist. "Show Dean to Dr. Shurely's room, please?"

  
"Sure thing." Meg purred, eyeing Dean up and down from behind the front counter. "Come little omega, right this way." She slid out from behind her desk and grabbed Dean's hand with the same, alpha, predatory confidence that scared the shit out of Dean every time he came to this office. He looked back over his shoulder at Anna one last time as if begging her to reconsider his fate with Meg as she dragged him away. The last thing he saw before rounding the corner to go down the hall that led to Dr. Shurely's office was Anna snickering behind the counter with a mischievous glee.

  
Once inside the room, Meg grabbed a plastic-wrapped gown and shoved it into Dean's hands.

  
"You're going to need to put that on." She said, and then patted the examining table. "Sit up here when you're done." Then she proceeded to plop herself down in one of the two waiting chairs beside it.

  
"Uh..." Dean stammered.

  
"Don't feel the need to be too quick about it on my behalf." She purred. "Go ahead, take your time." That predatory gleam in her eyes intensified.

  
"How about you show me to a bathroom." Dean said. He wasn't in the habit of strip-teasing for horny medical staff, and he wasn't about to start on any random alpha’s behalf... especially not for Meg.

  
"Come on baby, it's just me. Don't have to be afraid of nothin'. I ain't gonna touch you- just watch." She paused and licked her lips. "Unless you _want_ me to touch that pretty little body of yours..."

  
Dean narrowed his eyes is in response and folded his arms over his chest.

  
"Fine." Meg leapt up out of the chair and walked to the door just as coolly as when she'd entered through it. "But if you're ever looking for a good time, omega, give me a call." She grabbed a pen from the far counter, took his hand, and wrote her number in his palm. Then with a smirk and a wink, she slipped out the door.

  
Dean heaved a sigh of relief. Encounters such as that one scared him, what with his biology and everything. As an omega, it would be near impossible for him to disobey an order from an alpha if they used their alpha voice. It was a deep, low, commanding thing that penetrated through an omega's body and made them cower.

  
Omegas were smaller and weaker, and their biology demanded that they submit to a larger, stronger being... It didn't matter who it was. Sometimes a beta, with enough power, could get an omega to obey them- sometimes a particularly strong omega could overpower another omega, it didn't matter. But no omega, not even the strongest, could disobey the low voice of an alpha. Dean knew this especially, because in the past... he'd tried...

  
The voice of an individual and the voices of alphas, betas, and omegas were different. Dean had his own voice, the sound that accompanied his speech, the way he spoke. But he also had an omega voice, which wasn't generated from his vocal chords. It came from inside of him as a part of who he was, his biology. It came out instinctively more often than not in a more caring, nurturing way, which omegas were supposed to do. For him, as an omega, it was hard to use that kind of voice on purpose, for he wasn't very strong. An alpha could use their voice easily, they were supposed to. Betas weren't quite as powerful as an alpha, but were stronger than an omega. And omegas... Dean hated being an omega. He hated being and feeling weak.

  
With a heavy sigh, Dean pulled off his shirt and lowered his pants, and then tossed them onto a nearby chair. He ripped open the plastic packaging and pulled out the gown. With a grimace, he pulled it on and then hopped up into the table. And not a moment too soon either.

  
"Good morning Dean! How's it going?" Dr. Shurely said cheerfully as he entered the room, a clipboard in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. He had a bright, toothy smile on his face, as he usually did (Dean knew that Dr. Shurely, in particular, appreciated his job) at this time of day... as he usually did at all times of the day.

  
"It's going well, Doc. How about you?"

  
"Oh it's going great." Dr. Shurely said, setting his clipboard and mug down on the counter and reading over it. "I don't see your height and weight here. Did one of the nurses check it before you came in here?"

  
"No, they were rushing to get me back here since I was a little late."

  
"Ah, well that won't do. Come with me, we're going to get those measurements." Dr. Shurely said, and headed for the door. Dean found himself following close behind someone for the third time this morning as he was led to those strange little doctor scales. "Step up onto it please."

  
Dean complied without protest, huffing a sigh and looking away as the doctor made his decisions about his weight. Dr. Shurely nodded his head and wrote something down on his clipboard, muttering, "Alright," and then grabbed Dean's arm and pulled him over to the wall to take down his height.

  
"Since you're not wearing any shoes, I won't ask you to take them off, but I need you to stand with both your head, heels, back, and shoulders touching the wall please."

  
Dean did as he was told, only having to stand there for a moment before the doctor had finished making his measurements and was whisking him away back to the room.

  
"Alright Dean, we're going to listen to your heart, lungs, and take your blood pressure. We are going to take your blood pressure first." Dr. Shurely said, and strapped the band around his arm. A second later, Dean was struggling not to jerk the band off as his arm began to have the life squeezed out of it. Another second later, he was still being squeezed to death.

  
"Dr... Ah... Shurly... Think we... Ah... Got it?" He squeaked through gritted teeth.

  
"Just a moment, Dean. Let the machine go down."

  
A moment later, it did, and Dr. Shurely was removing the band. He then listened to Dean's heart and lungs, telling him to breathe in and out deeply and other routine things. And then as quickly as the checking up began, it ended.

  
"Well Dean, you're in trouble."

  
"What?"

  
"You've lost a good 10 pounds since your last heat- which you didn't have to lose in the first place. I'm assuming your last heat was a week ago, as usual, too. Your heart is very quick- quicker than it should be for an omega like you, and your lungs didn't sound right, like you were wheezing just to breathe normally. You're wearing down Dean. You need a mate." Dr. Shurely said frankly, plopping himself down in his doctor's chair exasperatedly.

  
"No. Out of the question. Can't you just prescribe me suppressants or something?" Dean growled, standing up off of the table defensively.

  
"No, Dean. Suppressants at this point would be too late. You'd have been better off taking them when you first realized you were an omega, and then never have a heat, ever. But that wasn't the case. You've been having heats since you were what, 15 years old? Each time since then, they've gotten worse, and worse, and worse- so the damage is already done.

"It's likely at this point that even if you started taking suppressants they wouldn't stop your heats- just prolong the time before you had one- which is also not good, mind you, because it messes up the cycle of your body." Dr. Shurely said with a shake of his head. Leave it to Dean to be stubborn enough to wait long enough until he really needed help.

  
"So what do I do, doc? What are my options?"

  
"At this point, you don't have any options. You have a need. A strong, biological need to have a mate and breed with them. Your body isn't going to take no for an answer.

"Judging from the damage I'm seeing here, your last heat was awful. Staggeringly bad. You don't even have to tell me what it was like. You need a mate to be there and to help you through it. If you don't find one soon, you will not survive- and that's a fact." Dr. Shurely said.

  
"You're lying. I don't need a mate- I don't need anyone." Dean snarled and glared down at the beta, crossing his arms over his chest.

  
"The proof is in the pudding, Dean. You need a mate. You cannot keep going on this way. One day, soon, your body will give out... and you will die." Dr. Shurely explained.

  
"Can't the damage from my heats heal?" Dean refused to believe that he needed anything from anyone.

  
"They normally would, but your body doesn't have time to heal completely before another heat rocks it. Like I said: your heats will continue to get worse. In this case, you need to think of other people besides yourself here. Your stubbornness tells you that you can do this and go through your heats by yourself- and you listen to it. That's why you're in such bad shape right now.

"I bet that you run out of breath easier, don't you? I know you work for Bobby Singer down at his place as a mechanic. Do you ever just have to sit down and rest and try to catch your breath? Or you go home and you're exhausted and everything hurts? All of your muscles are sore and achy aren't they?" Dr. Shurely paused to take a look up at Dean's face to read his expression. He was spot on as usual with his assumptions.

"You think that it's because you're an omega and that you're just weaker naturally, so you push through it and suck it up, don't you? Well the pain you're experiencing is not just because you're an omega, Dean. Omegas are weak, but not in that respect. You're struggling. It's your heats. They're going to kill you.

"You've got to think of others before yourself in this situation. You don't care what happens to you, I know that, but Sam and John do. They love you. They need you... Even old Bobby cares about you. You need to find yourself a partner, and soon. If I could have written down a prescription for a mate, then I'd have done it already." Dr. Shurely said gravely.

  
Dean turned away, vaguely aware that the scent of unhappy and panicky omega was beginning to waft off of him.

  
"What the hell do I do, doc?" He asked quietly, voice shaking with rage and fear.

  
"For one, don't go through another heat alone. Your father can get that covered for you." Dr. Shurely said calmly, rising out of his chair and heading over to the counter to his clipboard.

  
Dean whirled around and fixed his eyes onto the beta.

  
"What the hell does that mean!?!"

  
"Your father is pretty wealthy- he's also extremely well-known. He can get something arranged for you." Dr. Shurely said. If he could smell the second wave of frustration and panic seep out of Dean, then he gave no indication of such. He only continued to write down his diagnosis onto the clipboard with the calm and cool of the extremely experienced physician that he was.

  
"No! He can't find this out! You can't tell him- I-I'll do anything for you- just don’t let him know!" Dean said, beginning to pace with anxiety and fear.

  
"I'm sorry Dean, I have to tell him. This is something that is just too important." Dr. Shurely said, finally turning around to look at the omega in the eye.

  
He laid a gentle hand on Dean's shoulder and let his beta soothe him. Dean's omega responded immediately, and he stood down, returning to sit on the edge of the table.

  
“Dean, I'm doing this as not only your doctor, but as a friend. I've known you for 10, whole years, and by now, I know how you are. You won't say anything to your father or your brother, and you'll just let it get worse. I have to tell them. Now turn around, time to get done what you came here for."

  
Dean did as he was told, turning and bending over the table, and he braced himself. The sounds of blue latex gloves being pulled on, a cap on a bottle being flipped open, and liquid being squirted into Dr. Shurely's hands filled the room.

  
"Relax, Dean."

  
Dean shook his head and grunted as he felt one of Dr. Shurely's fingers breach his hole. This was the part that he hated the most.

  
"Well, the rim seems to be in perfect condition. No tears. It's not swollen or red..." Dr. Shurely crooked his fingers. Dean jumped and bit his lip hard to keep from squeaking. "Your prostate is..." He swiped his finger over it again. Dean bit his lip harder and breathed in and out through his nose deeply. "... Strangely responsive, but otherwise in perfect condition. You doing okay up there?" Dean nodded his head frantically so he wouldn't have to answer out loud. He didn't know how well he could control his voice with Dr. Shurely touching him there. "The walls feel great, if a little tight. I'm assuming that you haven't had sex in a couple years, am I correct?"

  
"Yeah." Dean panted. He let out a sigh of relief when Dr. Shurely extracted his fingers and backed away, pulling off his gloves and tossing them into a trash can. He walked over to the sink, washed his hands, and then returned back to his clipboard and began to write down a few things.

  
Dean stood back up and turned around, returning to sit on the edge of the table. His face was red from the stimulation to his most sensitive area, his scent radiated slight arousal, and his hands shook a little, but otherwise he was alright.  
"Well your appointment is over. I'll give your father a call in a few minutes- you need to go up to the release counter to sign some papers. Have a good day Dean, it was great seeing you again." Dr. Shurely dismissed him.

Dean dressed as quickly as possible and then bolted out of the room for the release counter with the speed of a bullet. He had to get home before Dr. Shurly called so that he could pick up the phone instead of John- or worse, Sammy.

  
He signed his papers in record time and was out the door and in his car in even less time. He beat it to his house with only a few unlawful turns and disregarded red lights along the way. He was up the drive way and was almost to the front door when it swung wide open to reveal John standing there. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his scent radiated fatherly, alpha protectiveness. It was too late...

  
"Hello Dean. I think it's time that you and I had a little chat..." He stepped aside and held the door open wider for his son, a very ashamed little omega, to pass him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, another chapter out. Not even kidding when I say that this took me an entire day to write. Things are beginning to escalate in this fanfiction, and I can't wait to write it for you. 
> 
> If you liked this chapter, feel free to leave me a comment and tell me about it!

Dean walked into the house, filled with dread. He knew that there was nothing he could say or do to defend himself (not that he wouldn't try). His current situation was similar to the words, "Game Over" that you'd see when losing a video game. He wouldn't get a second chance to improve upon the conversation John and he were about to have.

  
His father followed closely behind him, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and the scent of very protective alpha wafted off of him. Dean was screwed.

  
He entered the living room, the official area where most of their "little chats" took place, only to find his younger brother Sam, and his even-younger brother Adam, sitting on the couch.

  
With Sam, Dean would tolerate his presence during family arguments. He was a 28-year-old alpha going through college. He could certainly handle listening to and actively taking part in the discussions about Dean's future. Adam could not. He was a 15-year-old omega going through highschool. Dean had made a point to keep his youngest brother sheltered from his problems- he already had enough issues to deal with on his own without Dean adding to them.

  
He immediately wheeled on his father.

  
"Oh hell no! We are not having this discussion in front of Adam." He snarled, hackles up in his most defensive of defensive postures.

  
"Dean, this matter involves him too." John said calmly. His eyes and face were hard, and his mouth was set in a thin, straight line the way they were when he would be unswayed by anything.

  
"How the hell does this involve him!?!" Dean hissed, ignoring the look of hurt on the younger Winchester's face.

  
"Because he will be attending your wedding." John replied.

  
"My _what_?"

  
"You heard me, Dean."

  
"I'm not getting married?"

  
"You are now." John said, taking a seat in his black-leather recliner as if preparing himself for the inevitable argument.

  
"Oh hell no. Not on your life, old man." Dean paced down the center of the room frantically, completely forgetting Adam. This was not happening. This would not happen. He wouldn't let it.

  
"After I got that nice little call from Dr. Shurely, I picked up my phone and called up an alpha that I worked with a little while ago. He's going to be here in 30 minutes to discuss your marriage next week." John replied, not losing even a little bit of his cool, calm persona. Dean realized belatedly that that was probably for his benefit. If John had immediately stood up and matched his loud, angry tone of voice, Dean would have probably already lost it- what little of the self-control he had left. He cursed his father's logical nature silently.

  
"No. I won't do it. You can shove that pretty little train of thought right up your ass. I ain't marrying someone I don't even know, and I sure as hell ain't marrying no alpha." Dean hissed. His father knew this by now. Dean as good as hated any alpha suitor. How could he sign his son away to live with and "love" one for the rest of his life?

  
John stood up slowly, eyes narrowed, arms crossed over his chest. He was all alpha. Cold, stoney alpha.

  
"Sit down, Dean." He commanded, pointing to the couch menacingly. Dean felt his omega cower and did as he was told, shrinking down into the cushions in shame. "Your health is more important to me than how you feel about me. You can hate me all you want for this, but I'm still going to do this for you.   
"Do you think that it was easy for your brothers and me to hear that your biology would kill you the next time you had a heat? I know how uncomfortable you are, talking about you and your omega issues- you've always been uncomfortable about it, since the day you first presented... but we have to talk about it now.   
"I'll admit, I feel like this is mostly my fault. If I hadn't let you have your way for so long, you wouldn't be in this position... But never mind that now. Go upstairs and change into something more appropriate for our visitor." John said, giving Dean _that_ look.

  
Dean narrowed his eyes. He turned to each of his brothers on either side of him and crossed his arms. Sam narrowed his eyes back at him, clearly siding with John, and Adam... Well, he just appeared to be shocked. Dean couldn't blame the poor kid. He was, after all, about to witness his older brother being sold off like a slave. He was probably wondering if the same fate would come to him.

  
"Either of you have something to add to Daddy Dearest's little speech?" Dean retorted. Sam opened his mouth and lifted a finger into the air as if to actually go on a tangent. "Stuff it Samantha, we both know you do. How about you, Ada-Boy? Got any good points you'd like to share with the class?"

  
Adam only shook his head and shot Dean a glare. "Don't call me Ada-Boy."

  
"Alright Addie, whatever you say." If looks could kill, the older omega would be dead.

  
"Dean, upstairs. **Now**." John growled from where he still stood in front of his recliner, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently as he waited for his son to obey him.

  
Dean's face slowly morphed from the older-brother-having-fun-with-his-little-brother-smirk to his pissed-off scowl.

  
"If I'm getting married to someone, I'm going to wear whatever I damn-well please. I ain't changing myself for any hotshot alpha that just so happens to wink at me as he walks by. If I want to wear my Metallica shirt and my old jeans and boots, he's going to be okay with that if he wants me." Dean snarled defiantly, leaning back against the back of the couch and crossing his arms over his own chest, not even realizing that he was subconsciously mimicking his father.

  
"Dean, please don't make this more difficult than it has to be." John said, his voice and demeanor softening. He could tell when his son wasn't going to budge unless he used his alpha voice (which he used as little as possible. He'd never thought that using his alpha voice to make his son obey him was right. It felt like taking advantage of his biology.).

  
Dean opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a sharp rapping on their front door. Everyone turned to look in that general direction as if hearing a knock for the very first time.

  
"Never mind, Dean. Looks like you won't have time to make yourself presentable. Just sit there and behave." John warned as he strode quickly to the door to open it.

  
On the other side of said door was a large, chubby, balding man in a crisp, pressed, expensive grey suit. He held a briefcase in one hand, and the other, he had jabbed out for John to shake, which he did.

  
"Hello, Mr. Winchester. I'm Zachariah Novak. I own the Novak &Sons Attorney at Law Corporation- but of course, you already knew that."

  
"Yes, yes I did, Mr. Novak. Your company helped settle the dispute over the rights of my books, and then later, the movies."   
John was a particularly well-known author of a series of books called, "The Rebel With Tattered Wings". They were about an omega named, "Jensen Ackles" who went against society's set path for him, one who rebelled against the classic stereotypes of omegas. He was a fighter, a warrior, a rebel... a rolemodel. It was no secret that it was mostly omegas who bought and read John's books- they ate right up the idea of an omega who became more in life besides a house wife or a sex symbol created by the media.

  
John's books became so famous that an eager movie productions company asked him to sign a contract to help them turn his series of novels into a series of movies. John became very successful, and more and more proud of his eldest son (for Dean had always sort of known whom his father had modeled the main character of his book off of). He was also absent quite a bit more than before, for he had been asked to assist in the production of the movies in order to make them as close as possible to the actual books. John had done a spectacular job on the first three movies. Even the main actor of the films looked like Dean, and surprisingly, was even an omega.

  
Then halfway through production, another, rival, film company had claimed that John and the production company working with him had stolen their works and ideas. That's where Novak&Sons had stepped in, rescuing both the book and movie series from copyright and all sorts of other legal actions. However, even if Novak&Sons had liberated all of John's hard work from their rival's oppression, Dean didn't like Zachariah.

  
In fact, Dean had immediately hated him. If this was the man that Dean was supposed to marry, then the omega would rather die. He didn't know how he could possibly live for the rest of his life with a man who reeked of the most powerful, overbearing alpha stench ever. If Dean didn't know any better, he'd say that the man had rolled in rotten eggs, menstrual blood, and his brother Sam's fresh flatulence after John's superb, homemade chicken-and-green-bean-casserole before he arrived here.   
As John led the man, Zachariah, back to the living room, he gave Dean a stern glare. Zachariah didn't know Dean well enough to immediately pick up the scent of hate that wafted off of him- but then, John could be standing all the way at the other end of a football field and still know how Dean was feeling. So, as he passed the dining room, he grabbed a little bottle of lotion that was sitting on the table, and tossed it to his son once he entered the living room, which Dean immediately began to apply liberally to his scent glands at the base of his neck in order to hopefully mask the strong scent of dislike.

  
When Zachariah turned to look at John questioningly, John only nervously smiled and said, "He gets very dry there."

  
Zachariah shrugged it off and took a seat in John's recliner without permission and opened his briefcase on their living room table. He leafed through a few papers before coming to the one he wanted, and he snagged it out of a particularly thick file with an, "Aha!" and then leaned back in the chair and propped his shoes up on the table. Dean's omega bristled. From his entire body language, Zachariah obviously thought he was hot shit. Dean disliked him even more.

  
"What I have here is a contract for your son to sign- may I call you John?" Zachariah began. Dean's father nodded his head. "Alright, John, I'm going to need your son to sign this contract here. All it does is go over what we already talked about over the phone a couple weeks ago-"

  
"A couple _weeks_ ago!?!" Dean snapped, launching himself up off of the couch and into his father's face. "You liar! You've been planning this for much longer than a quick, impulse decision today, you filthy rat."

  
"Dean, **sit down**." John growled, his alpha bristling beneath his skin. Dean immediately obeyed, his omega yelping and shying away underneath the alpha rage and dominance displayed in his father's face and voice in that moment alone, and yet inside, Dean was still furious. "Good boy. I'll explain this later." He murmured to his son before turning back to a shocked Zachariah. "I'm so sorry about my son, Mr. Novak. He's usually so much more well-behaved than this."

  
"It's alright, John. I just wasn't aware that you were in the habit of letting your omegas get away with an outburst such as that one." Zachariah responded, eyeing Dean with the sort of look that reminded the omega of a snake: sly, nasty, and most of all, deadly.

  
"I know, this one, his heats are so bad that they effect his emotions so much that sometimes he can't control himself." John lied. "Usually, he'd be over my knee right about now, but I would hate to damage his frail little body any further."

  
"It's that bad, huh?" Zachariah sent the most disgusting, mock-pouty face in Dean's direction in a gross display of pity.

  
"It really is. His condition is worsening... That's why I called you over to make this deal as quickly as possible." John said, almost as if Dean wasn't sitting but five feet away from him.

  
"Well then my son will be just the right thing for him." Zachariah said, raising an eyebrow at Dean's sigh of relief at the news that he wouldn't have to marry him.

  
"Yes, hopefully he will be, Mr. Novak." John said, ignoring his glowering son as he said this.

  
"Alright, well let's get this over with." Zachariah said, looking back down at the paper in his hands. "The contract simply states the agreement between my son and yours that they will make at the wedding. My son will marry yours and help him out with his heats (Dean bristled at this), and in return, your son will further my son's reputation, give him young, and you will pay him 20% of the profits of your success with your books and movies."

  
Dean's eyes widened. If his omega had been bristling before at the misogynistic attitude of the alpha, it was now ripping at Dean's insides and begging him to attack Zachariah with a need that Dean had never felt before. Rip him limb from limb, beat him over the head with his femur bone, shove Zachariah's own his fist up his ass- whatever it took to teach this arrogant dick a lesson or two of how not to take advantage of hard-working, honest men like John Winchester by stealing 20% of the income on all of his profits, or act like he was doing Dean a favor by buying his body for his son.

  
John discreetly moved closer to Dean and laid a reassuring hand down on top of his head. He stroked his son's hair gently, and rubbed his scalp with his fingertips, instantly calming the angry little omega. His scent had changed from strong, commanding, and in control, to something soft that soothed Dean's nerves and made him relax into the touch, letting him know subtly that everything was alright.

  
Another 40 minutes passed of John and Zachariah discussing the necessary terms and conditions such as, "Dean cannot back out of this agreement, and neither can Castiel (which was the name of the man whom Dean would be marrying)", "Dean must have regular doctor's appointments to keep his health in check", etc., and by the time they were done, Dean had a massive headache and wanted even less than before to marry this "Castiel" man. He didn't like Zachariah at all, and if he didn't like the father, how the hell would he like his son... Most often, the offspring took after their parents... If Dean ended up marrying a misogynistic jerk, he might actual kill someone.

  
By the time they got to the end of the contract, Dean was good and ready to go upstairs and take a nice, long nap and rest his head, so when he saw the line where he had to sign his name, he almost jumped for joy. Above where his signature was to go was another blank for a signature that had already been signed. _Castiel Emmanuel Novak_. It was written neatly and in cursive with long loops and a noticeable slant. Dean almost felt ashamed of his messy, quick handwriting next to something as beautiful as Castiel's name, but he forced himself to finish signing the contract anyway, and then stepped away.   
Zachariah snatched up the paper quickly as if he was afraid of John or Dean backing out of their agreement and stuffed the document back into his briefcase. Then he rose to shake Dean's father's hand.

  
"It was a pleasure doing business with you, John." Zachariah said. "I'll send a few people by next Monday with the dress and they'll do your son up real nice for the wedding." He grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and scribbled down an address onto it before passing it to John. "This is the church they will be marrying at. Two in the afternoon sharp is when the ceremony will take place. Don't be late- oh and Dean?"

  
"Yes?"

  
"Make sure to wear something nicer than that for the honeymoon." He said after giving Dean a once-over. Then he sent a wink and a nod in the omega's direction and headed out the door.

  
"Aren't we supposed to have a wedding rehearsal?" Dean muttered, still staring at the door through which his future had just waltzed right out of and ignoring Zachariah's last rude comment.

  
"Not this time, Dean. For Zachariah and Castiel, this marriage is just a business wedding. They don't really care about tradition or any minor preparation details except that the bride and groom are legally wed together. There will be no rehearsal, bachelorette party, or huge celebration afterwards. Just a simple kiss, exchange of rings, and a saying of the vows-"

  
"-And a signing away of my future, right?" Dean interrupted.

  
"Well no, you already signed the contract and the marriage license. Your future has already been signed away." John said.

  
"I didn't remember signing any marriage licenses..."

  
"You signed 7 pages. Remember that one separate sheet that wasn't connected to the other ones?"

  
"Yes..."

  
"That was your marriage license." John said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You didn't notice?"

  
"I had 7 fucking pages to sign. I'm not going read every single one of them... I didn't even notice it- just signed it." Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

  
"Well, now you're legally married. The only reason that you're having a wedding at all is because I demanded it. I know how much that stuff is important to you."

  
Dean wheeled on John, bristling with anger.

  
" _Important_ to me!?! Oh yeah, apparently it was important enough to me for you discuss with a man like that one-" Dean thrust his finger at the door that Zachariah had walked out of, "-the signing away of my life without telling me for weeks in advance. You're a liar- it wasn't my condition that you're worried about. What is it that you're selling me for? Money? Fame? You've already got plenty of that... Oh wait... How about whores? You must have plenty of those too or else Adam wouldn't be here-" Dean pointed at the younger of the two males who had sat silently on the couch throughout the entire discussion with Zachariah.

  
Adam's eyes widened, tears already welling up in them. With a choked sob, he leapt up off the couch and ran out of the room, Sam following close on his heels (who shot a glare at Dean from over his shoulder as he was exiting).

  
" **DEAN THAT'S ENOUGH**." John shouted. He grabbed Dean by the collar of his shirt and shoved him down onto the couch. "If it was still my job, then I would beat your fucking ass over my knee right here and now for saying something as insensitive and disrespectful as that- but you know, I just signed you over to one of the richest alphas in America- I'll bet he can do it for me from now on.   
"And Adam may be your half-brother, but he is still family and I know that you love him. Just because you're angry with me doesn't mean you get to say something like that to his face- or behind his back for that matter. When we are done here with this discussion, you will go apologize to him. Do you understand?" John thundered, giving Dean the glare of all glares.

  
"Yes sir..." Dean whimpered. His omega was shuddering in fear. He knew that he'd crossed a pretty bold line, and already the guilt of what he'd said was beginning to set in.

  
"Good. Now the reason why I was speaking to Zachariah about this prior to today was because I was going to marry you off anyway. Dr. Shurely has called me up before about your condition, so I've known for a long time how you were going downhill... I just never liked the idea about giving you away like this, so I never signed the contract. This last doctor's appointment was the final push. I never told you about this because I knew you'd have a cow about it... And it's fair to say that you did.  
"I'm sorry about this Dean. I know how you must feel about this... Your entire world is being tipped upside down. It can't be fun at all, but I'm doing this for your own good. I just need you to know that I love you no matter what. Mary would be real proud of you..." John murmured, turning away from his son.

  
"I don't see how you can love me." Dean said bitterly. "You're marrying me off to someone we don't even know. What if he doesn't give me a good life?"

  
"Dean, I can assure you that I didn't make the decision to sign that contract off of an internal impulse to make you miserable. I've met Castiel... He was the man who won us over the rights to my books and movies. He was the one who defended us in court... He's a good man. I believe that he will treat you well." John said.

  
"Dad, I- is this really happening?" Dean said softly, standing out of the chair slowly.

  
"Yes, Dean. It is." John said, turning back to his son.

  
"Dad, I-" Dean shook his head and threw his arms around John tightly. "I don't want to do this..."

  
"I know you don't Dean. But you have to." John said gently and hugged his son back, not letting him go for a couple more minutes. "Now I believe that you owe someone an apology." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this chapter, feel free to leave a comment and tell me about it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: In this chapter, I included a drawing of Ruby picking at Dean's wedding dress, confused that it's tighter than normal, as was requested by FuzzyPagan in my drawing contest. Enjoy! P.S. I'm not very good at drawing, but hey, I tried.
> 
> I would just like to make a very important note here: some of you may notice how Dean is shorter than Castiel, or seems to be smaller than he is from the show Supernatural. If you know anything about Jensen Ackles and Misha Collins, you will know that Jensen is taller than Misha, and is actually a pretty bulky guy (Castiel too for that matter, but I already made him large and tall in the fic). 
> 
> That is not the case for this fic. Dean is an omega- omegas are typically smaller and weaker than alphas. I made Dean shorter and smaller than Castiel here on purpose. 
> 
> Also, shout out to my friend, "Turtle", who dreamt up Dean's "disappearing wedding dress trick" (aka pulling it off in front of everyone, flipping them off, and storming away). Lord knows I'm not that clever, nor that creative. Thank you for helping me out with that scene, it gave just the right "Dean-like" flourish to the wedding, because come-on! Would Dean settle for any less? 
> 
> If you liked this fic, please tell me what you liked about it in the comments!

"I hate dresses." Dean spat, omega bristling. He was standing in a pure white gown in front of a mirror, glaring at the offending article of clothing like it had broken his favorite Black Sabbath CD. He pulled at the tight fabric that was to encircle his waist with a snarl, watching it snap back onto his body like a rubber band. "I hate you even worse for forcing me to wear one."

  
" _I'm_ not forcing you to do anything." Ruby retorted, helping to straighten the wedding veil on top off his head. " _Castiel_  is the one who asked that you'd wear a dress. I'm only forcing you to wear _this_ dress."

  
"Yeah, and about 10 others in that closet of yours." Dean muttered.

  
"Hey, I'm not completely inhumane. I at least offer my clients, like you, options in fashion." Ruby said, tying a huge, white bow around the omega's midsection. Dean winced with a sharp intake of breath.

  
"Is there any possible way you could make that tighter?" Dean hissed sarcastically, quite certain, without having to glance into the mirror, that his eyes were now bulging out of his head.

  
"As a matter of fact-" Ruby said, an evil glint appearing in her eyes. With a sudden jerk of her hand, the fabric contracted against the omega's waist, cutting off Dean's breathing violently.

  
Dean gasped loudly and doubled over, wheezing and heaving in loud inhales. "You are such a damned witch." He breathed angrily, shooting her a glare.

  
"Hey, you asked for it." Ruby said, releasing her hold on the bow, letting Dean get some air. She reeked of smug beta.

  
"I utterly hate you. I tried to tell Sam that you were evil."

  
"I'm not evil!" Ruby exclaimed, throwing her hand over her mouth, pretending to be shocked at the very notion that Dean thought so. "I'm just cruel to some people."

  
The smugness was back.

  
"Yeah and I just happen to encompass the entirety of the words, 'some people', for you." Dean growled.

  
"Yep, pretty much." Ruby said, walking over to the wall where several pairs of high heels were sitting in a row, and picked up a pair of particularly high, white stilettos.

  
"Oh hell no, you've got to be shitting me!" Dean groaned as the beta made her way back to him. "Who the hell inspired you to have a death wish on me- I want to murder them."

  
"Stop being a pussy, Dean." Apparently, Ruby was fresh out of sympathy. "It's just a stupid pair of shoes. If you could handle the waxing portion of the wedding preparations, then you can deal with some high heels."

  
"Yeah and that's another thing: if you ever come at me again with those waxing materials, I will fucking stab you."

  
"Lighten up, Dean. At least now, Castiel won't have to endure staring at your hairy asshole on your wedding night." Ruby retorted, plopping the shoes down in front of Dean with a challenging raise of her eyebrows.

  
"Hey! My asshole wasn't _that_ hairy!" Dean protested, reluctantly slipping his feet into the stilettos. He nearly died.

  
"Suuure! It was about as hairless as fuzzy caterpillars are." Ruby grunted as she caught Dean by the waist (after he tried to perform his best impression of a nose dive to the floor) and heaved him back to his feet. The omega didn't miss how she only took one wary step away from him after she had steadied him in his shoes.

  
"I'm pretty sure what you've thought are caterpillars all these years are actually worms." Dean responded, smoothing out the wrinkles in his dress nonchalantly. "It pains me on the inside to know how fucking dumb you must be to mistake the two for so long." 

 

"Fuck you. I should've let you fall." Ruby growled, beginning to circle Dean like she had been doing not five minutes ago. After a moment of walking, she paused at the omega's waist and plucked at it with her fingers... "Why the hell is this so tight? I don't remember there being such a small amount of space between the fabric and your stomach when we first tried it on (she had made a point of making Dean try on each dress at least twice). In fact, wasn't this the dress that was at least a size larger than your frame?"

  
"No, I think you're thinking of another dress." The look on Dean's face was far from innocent, implying that he was hiding something, but Ruby had always been a little oblivious.

  
"That doesn't explain why it's so close to your body..."

  
"Um... Rapid, inexplicable weight gain?" Dean attempted.

  
"I don't think even _you_ are cursed hard enough by life for that." Ruby muttered, once again tugging at the fabric inquisitively. "No matter, there's not enough time to switch out dresses. I _was_ going to have you try out the rest of the closet one final time, but the clock on the wall says you have to be out, pretending to enjoy your wedding ceremony in an hour." Ruby groaned, "I can't believe that you waited until the last fucking minute to pick out your wedding attire. When your father first told me that you were a major procrastinator, I thought he was exaggerating." Ruby looked him up and down skeptically. "Now I see that he was right."

  
"As if you're any better." Dean scoffed. "You let me put things off this long."

  
"I don't think so, _omega._ I think that you've forgotten that you locked me out of your room three days prior to this event. It's almost as if you _wanted_ to be late to your own wedding."

  
Dean sent a smug smirk at his reflection in the mirror deviously. Ruby would never know how close to the actual truth she was.

  
"You're lucky that this is such a small marriage ceremony." Ruby continued obliviously. "There's no way in hell that I could get you ready an hour before you're actually supposed to make your vows if this event were say, a gala or a ball. Anything huge takes a huge amount of time to plan."

  
Apparently not his wedding. It was so small, that the only people attending the quiet ceremony were: Dean's father, his two brothers, his honorary uncle, Bobby Singer, his honorary aunt, Ellen Harvelle, and his long-time friend Jo, and then the groom's entire party which consisted of: Castiel (whom he still hadn't met), Zachariah, his mother, Naomi, and a couple of Castiel's siblings (and the minister, caterers, and musicians of course). This wedding was also dreamt up in literally a week.

  
Ruby fussed over Dean for a few more minutes before gripping him sharply by the arm and yanking him along with her to the bathroom. Once there, she shaved his face until it was baby-smooth, brushed his hair, and began applying basic makeup such as foundation, concealer, and eyeshadow (for the smokey-eye effect to make his greens stand out of course).

  
"I look like a painted whore." Dean groaned at his reflection, eyeing the woman behind him warily. "Why do I need to go through this torture again?"

  
"Because it's fun to watch you cry." Ruby replied without missing a beat. "You're almost ready for your big day. Go out there and make me proud!"

  
Dean raised an eyebrow at that comment, immediately knowing that there was a catch.

  
"Of course that's impossible, because you're such a lame virgin that I'm sure that you don't even know how to ride a-"

  
"Okay okay!" Dean hurriedly cut Ruby off with a frantic wave and a hoisting up of his dress. "I think I hear the music- time to head out!" Dean bolted for safety as quickly as possible (which wasn't very quick, thanks to his stilettos), relieved when he saw his father step out to meet him from another, quieter room that was closer to the patio that lead to the backyard where Dean was to be married.

  
The groom had rented the small cottage that Dean had spent the past five hours getting ready in to temporarily host the wedding preparations for the bride. Behind the cottage was a vast forest of tall, dark trees and giant, gray boulders that surrounded a quaint little pond littered with water lilies and tall, long cattails. It was the most perfect, peaceful setting that Dean could think of- and he wouldn't have wanted to get married in any other place (church or no church).

  
"Dean, I..." John was at a loss for words as he pulled his son into a hug.

  
"I know I know, I'll be mobbed in the streets for my vast beauty." Dean retorted, pulling back only to look his father deep in the eyes in mock-seriousness. "Speaking of beauty- where the hell did you hire that witch. I would be surprised if her only purpose in life was to _not_  make me miserable in some way."

  
"She wasn't _that_  bad." John protested, leading his son over to the large, white, French, patio doors in wait for the cue from the music.

  
"Yeah, you only think that because her ungodly wrath wasn't directed at you." Dean said, rolling his eyes. "She's a monster."

"Quit being melodramatic Dean." John said lowly, just as the music began to play. He glanced over at his son, forced a smile, and raised an eyebrow. "Ready to go?"

  
"Ready as I'll ever be." Dean grunted, taking his father's arm which was offered to him.

  
"Good. Let's go." John said. He took hold of the patio door handle with his right hand and twisted it, opening it with a swift flourish of his arm, and stepped through the doorframe, shooting a smile at his son as he did so, his eyes silently telling him to pretend to be overjoyed for his wedding day. Dean ignored it and stared at the ground in front of him as he walked.

  
They moved side by side (Dean nearly face-planting several times along the way) in time to the Bridal Chorus that was played on the big, shiny black piano that had been brought outside to sit on the grass beside the huge, white and pink rose arch that Dean was to be married under. Everything was eerily silent except for the music and the sound of crunching grass underneath the alpha and omega's feet as they walked down the aisle that was framed by the many white, plastic chairs arranged in rows for the guests to sit in on the lawn.

  
Halfway to the wooden alter that was situated just 2 feet away from the rose arch, Dean lifted his head. His gaze was immediately drawn to the tall, handsome alpha dressed sharply in a neatly-pressed, black tuxedo, standing calmly in front of the alter.

Castiel's icy-blue eyes met Dean's own, fiery greens. An eyebrow rose in challenge and a smirk quirked at the corner of his mouth dangerously. Along the groom's strong jawline and around his soft, pink lips, a noticeable 5'o'clock shadow grew, and upon his head was tousled mess of night-black, unruly hair. If Dean hadn't known any better, he'd say that it looked like the alpha had just come to the wedding straight after a good, hard fuck. Dean's knees began to tremble as he walked.

  
When he reached the alter, John handed Dean off to the groom, then took a seat. A sharp spark of heat flared up in the omega's gut as the alpha's strong, firm hand closed around his, and his scent filled his nostrils. It was crisp and clean, like a river flowing over perfectly-rounded, smooth river stones, of tall, evergreens growing beside the banks, rooted deeply in soft, earthy soil, of tangy, wild blackberries and sweet, even-wilder roses that sprouted out of the ground and wove through thick, leafy bushes... The scent was single-handedly the most beautiful and powerful thing that Dean had ever had the pleasure of inhaling. And it went straight to his dick.

  
Dean's eye twitched, and he gave a quick prayer of thanks to whatever deity held his future in their hands for the decision he made earlier in the morning to wear blockers. Dean couldn't imagine the mortification he would feel if Castiel could, at that moment, smell the sweet scent of arousal that usually would have been wafting off of him at a time like this...

  
"Nervous little one?" Castiel whispered lowly, leaning in close to Dean's ear so as not to disturb the minister's long, boring montage about the union of the bride and groom yadda yadda yadda... Dean felt himself squirm. Oh fuck that _voice._ It was deep and gravelly and _did_  things to his insides. Dean forced his omega to compose itself.

  
"Why do you ask?" Dean whispered back, eyeing the priest apologetically, who was currently shooting a glare in their direction over the book which he read their vows out of.

  
"You're shaking, your face is red, and your hands are trembling. Not exactly 'normal' behavior for an omega..." There it was again. That _voice_. Dean could only describe it as liquid sex... The omega figured that if he could bottle and sell that sound on the market, he would never have to work again. He would be positively _overflowing_ with money, _swimming_  in it, using it as toilet paper to wipe his ass every time he took a shit- okay, maybe he wouldn't go _that_ far...

  
"Maybe it's normal behavior for _me._ "Dean growled under his breath. "You and I have never met. You wouldn't know jack shit about me."

  
The alpha's hand tightened around his own in warning.

  
"Be careful little one, comments like that will put you out on thin ice with me."

  
Dean turned his head discreetly to snarl back a reply, when the priest slammed the Bible and the book of vows in his hands down on the pulpit in mock-accident to subtly get their attention.

  
"Do you, Castiel Emmanuel Novak take Dean William Winchester to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

  
"I do." If it was possible for that sinful, sinful voice to get any deeper, then it just did.

  
"And do you, Dean William Winchester take Castiel Emmanuel Novak to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

  
"I do." How humiliating... Dean's voice chose that moment to crack, sending the audience into a fit of laughter. The grip around his hand tightened reassuringly.

  
"You may now kiss the bride." The priest gave a pointed look in Castiel's direction, and the alpha turned to Dean, pulling the veil up and over his head, and cupping his face gently with one, firm hand, kissed him gently on the lips.

  
When Castiel pulled away, so did Dean. With a hard flourish of his arm, he had pulled the entire wedding dress up and over his head and only took a moment to wrap up the long, lacy white train before depositing it into the alpha's arms. The wedding veil was close to follow.

  
Dean turned back to the audience, held up one, proud middle finger, reached down and removed his heels, holding them in one hand, stalked off towards the limousine he had been told would be waiting for him and Castiel, in a charcoal grey, Led Zeppelin t-shirt, and a pair of worn jeans. Gasps of surprise and outrage burst from the crowd as expected, along with the loud, angry voice of Zachariah.

  
"Are you going to just let him disrespect us like that!?!"

  
"I know father, I know-" Castiel began, trying to calm his father down in the midst of the uproar.

  
"If that were my son, he wouldn't be able to sit down for a week!" Zachariah's face was red, and puffed up like a balloon. He was taking deep breaths in and out and his fists were clenching and unclenching in obvious fury.

  
"I know. Don't worry about it father, I'll take care of him. Just sit down and enjoy the hors d'oeuvres, Dean and I will head back to my home and I'll correct him there." Castiel said with a shake of his head. He glanced in Dean's direction and caught the omega's gaze, motioning with a hand that his father couldn't see to get into the car.

  
"You'd **better** correct him. If **you**  don't, **I**  will." Zachariah snarled. At that moment, the pungent odor of _very_ pissed off alpha reached Dean's nostrils. His omega retreated, and scrunching up his nose, trying to escape the angry stench, he covered it with a hand, and with the other hand, motioned for the limousine driver to open the door, and leaped inside.

  
The interior of the limo was pristine, neat. The cream-colored seats formed a c-shape that snaked along the sides, underneath the windows, and the back of the car, where a small, black refrigerator rested on the soft, burgundy-colored rug underneath Dean's bare toes. He guessed that the appliance probably held expensive wine and exotic cheeses, as was the most-common stereotype of rich, upper-class alphas.

Castiel joined him a moment later, looking strangely ruffled, which widely differed from how calm and collected he'd appeared several minutes ago. He gave a silent command to the driver by way of a curt nod of his head, and dumped Dean's wedding dress and veil unceremoniously into his lap.

  
"Nice shirt." He muttered, plopping himself down into the seat directly across from Dean. "Even nicer first-impression I must say."

  
"Thank you, I aim to please." Dean said smugly, letting out a breath of relief once he realized Castiel wasn't about to destroy his behind.

  
"Mmm, a feisty one, are you? All the more fun for me." Castiel said coolly, licking his lips hungrily.

  
"What fun? I don't plan to let you touch me." Dean snarled defiantly, leaning back against his seat and crossing his arms.

  
"Little one," Castiel purred, eyes flashing dangerously in a predatory gleam. He moved out of his seat, stalking forward slowly, closer and closer to the omega, like an animal cornering its prey, "I won't have to touch you. When I'm done with you, you'll be whimpering, trembling, begging for me to put my hands on you- eat you right up." He punctuated this statement with another, slower lick of his lips, letting his tongue drag torturously over the soft, rose-colored skin.

  
Dean shuddered. He was fucked. He'd only been in the car for a solid 15 minutes with the other man and he was already longing for him like a whore in heat. No, not today. Dean would control himself.

  
"I won't be begging for-" Dean swallowed down a whimper and sunk lower in his seat as Castiel edged closer, now looming over him with a hungry look in his eyes. "I won't be begging for you- not now, not ever. When you get bored with my resistance against you, my words will still stand: If you fudging touch me, I will fudging kill you."

  
Castiel's eyes, darkened with lust, flashed dangerously once more.

  
"Mmm, like I said, little omega, I enjoy the feisty ones." The alpha paused, leaning down so that his face was level with Dean's so that he could look him in his panicking green eyes. "Makes it all the more fun for me to take apart."

  
That statement was the last straw. Dean shoved Castiel away with a shaking hand and sat up quickly, throwing his shoes down onto the floor in frustration, and jerked his head to look out the window at the quickly passing trees.

  
He tried to pretend like he couldn't hear the sinful chuckle coming from the alpha across the car from him, and most of all, he tried to pretend like Castiel didn't effect him, like he wasn't hard as a rock in his jeans just from a tiny little display of dominance such as that one. His omega was just weak, that's all. Nothing more. There was no want, no need, no craving or desire for Castiel to bend him over one of these car seats and-

  
Dean bit his lip so harshly it drew blood. He wound his fingers through the white lace in his lap and squeezed, thankful that it was covering his erection, and even more thankful for his blockers, now more than ever before.

  
Thinking of what Castiel could do to him made Dean a hot mess, just like every other weak, pathetic little omega out there who was even winked at by a passing alpha. Dean just wouldn't think about it. It would only make it harder for him to put up his little fight, or "throw his little fit" as his father called it. Sure he would marry an alpha if his father told him to- didn't mean he had to pretend to like it.

  
Dean remained quiet for the rest of the drive, lost in his thoughts until the limo rolled to a gentle stop in front of a huge, towering, white house. It was made of wood and framed by flowering bushes and cherry blossom trees. Two ginormous white columns held up the front of the building, and a little black pebble path led to it through the middle of the front yard, which was filled with soft blades of bright, healthy green grass. Dean's mouth hung open in shock.

  
"We're here." Castiel said nonchalantly from the other end of the car, waiting for the driver to get out and open his door.

  
" _Here_!?! You live **_here_**!?!"

  
"And you do too now, little one." Castiel said it as if it was no big deal.

  
"Are you serious!?!"

  
"Of course I am. Why would I lie?" The alpha said, raising a curious eyebrow at Dean.

  
"Because it's fuckin'..." Dean looked out the window and then back out at Castiel, whom'd exited the car in the midst of the omega's awe. He bunched up the wedding dress and veil that were still miraculously in his lap and leapt out of the door, completely forgetting his heels, before continuing on in his astonishment. "It's fuckin' gorgeous, Cas!"

  
Dean froze. Where had the term of endearment come from? How did it just slip out like that? He turned slowly to see the alpha staring back at him smugly.

  
"Mmm, 'Cas'... I like that." Castiel purred seductively, taking a step closer to Dean. He reached out and grabbed a hold of the omega's free hand (the one not holding his wedding dress), taking Dean by surprise, and he clenched it fearfully. "Open your fist, little one."

  
With a soft whimper, Dean did as he was told, unraveling his fingers and closing his eyes tightly in fear from the alpha's dark, commanding tone. Instead of feeling a strike or the sharp blade of an instrument used to implement punishment, a hard piece of cool, blunt metal was placed in the center of his palm.

  
"Open your eyes, Dean."

  
The omega glanced down at his hand to see a small, oddly-shaped, old-fashioned-looking key.

  
"What is it?" He asked, holding it up to his eyes for a closer look.

  
"It's a key to the house. You can go wherever you'd like on the property **except**  for the 20th room in the house, which is on the third floor. It has a number on its door, so you'll know not to enter." Castiel called over his shoulder, heading up the path towards the front door. Dean speed-walked after him (for he was barefoot and the pebbles were uncomfortable to the soft, tender flesh of his feet).

  
"What's in the 20th room?"

  
"It doesn't matter what's in the 20th room, you have been told not go in it, and you will obey that command. Do you understand me?" Dean's omega cowered under the powerful, alpha voice directed at him, whining instinctively and ducking his head in shame. "Good. Now as soon as you get inside, I would like you to find a servant to assist you. They will show you a bathroom, and I want you to bathe yourself- **thoroughly**. I don't care if they do it for you or if you do it for yourself. Don't think I didn't notice that you were wearing a scent blocker during the wedding." Castiel said coolly, walking up the steps and pausing so that one of the servants could open the door for him, and then stepped inside. "I detest scent blockers because then I won't be able to smell you, how you're feeling, what you're thinking. You're not to wear them again in my house, understood?"

  
Dean nodded his head, narrowed his eyes, arms crossed over his chest, white lace sticking out from under one of them. They'd been in the same house together for not even five minutes and the alpha was already giving him orders. He would have been content to pout for a while longer when the alpha stepped up close to him, invading his personal space.

  
Castiel leaned down to look Dean in the eyes, and when the omega wouldn't meet his, cupped his chin and lifted it slowly, leaning in to whisper lowly into his ear, "That dress fit you like a glove, little one." He said this as he gently removed said dress from Dean's grasp. "You looked absolutely stunning walking down the aisle in those heels-" he glanced down at Dean's feet, smirking when he saw that they were absent of any shoes. "The only way I can ever imagine you as more gorgeous than you were then, is you writhing under me as I pleasure you, the scent of your need so strong that it's the only thing I can smell... So do me a favor, little omega, and go wash that repulsive scent blocker off for me, hm?" He punctuated this with a long, slow lick from the base of the omega's neck up to his ear, instantly shattering Dean's stubborn, angry resolve.

  
The omega couldn't handle it any more. Loud, uncontrollable, continuous whimpers forced their way out of his throat, and he bore his neck to the alpha instinctively, his body begging for Castiel to bite him, take him, claim him. Most omegas didn't respond so violently to an alpha this way, but by now, Dean was so starved for an alpha, his omega was willing to take what it could get- take what it so very, very desperately _**needed**_.

  
But Castiel didn't take advantage of him, only stepping away slowly, a soft chuckle leaving his mouth, as if he had just been toying with Dean, and who knows? Perhaps he was?

  
"Good boy." The alpha breathed, turning and walking away abruptly, leaving Dean a leaking, needy mess.

  
It took several more moments for the omega to compose himself, flattening down his hair and ducking his head in embarrassment about the way he had presented himself to Castiel so quickly, and in front of so many servants who were just bustling around doing their jobs as if they hadn't seen a thing that had just happened.  
  
Dean decided that the years that would make up the rest of his life would be very long, very tough ones. If his display a few moments ago was anything to go by, he would be in for it. He just knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read the comment at the top of this chapter if you haven't already.
> 
> If you liked this fic, please tell me what you liked about it in the comments!
> 
> Also, again, thank you to my friend, "Turtle", for dreaming up Dean removing his dress in front of everyone. This fic just wouldn't have been right without you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this fic, please leave me a comment and tell me all about it!

"' _You will join me for dinner_!'" Dean snarled, voice deep and obnoxious in his best Castiel impression. "Who the hell does he think he is!?!"

  
The omega paced in nothing but a pair of black boxers in front of the large, grand, white bathtub that he was to cleanse himself in before supper. His personal servant, Garth, was watching him like a hawk, trying every few moments to hand him a wash cloth and towel so that he would get down to business, but Dean was too riled up to notice.

  
"He's your husband?" Garth tried, backing away when the omega fixed him with one of _those_ glares.

  
"Yeah? And what's that supposed to mean to me?" Dean barked, grabbing the beta by the collar of his immaculately-clean, white dress shirt, and jerking him close so that their faces were barely an inch apart. "So help me, if you say that he's my husband and that I should obey him because of it, then I will give you the worst swirly of your life." Garth warily eyed the toilet that was not even 2 feet from where the two of them stood and shook his head.

  
"No, I wasn't saying that. I meant that because he's now your husband, maybe he just wants to spend some time with you, get to know you?"

  
"Why the hell would he ever want to know me? We married for sex... And a shitty business deal." Dean said, releasing Garth from his grip and shoving him away. The tall, wiry beta stumbled back and sat down on the lid of the toilet with a sigh, then looked back up at the angry omega with the calmest face he could muster.

  
"Maybe he doesn't just want you for sex. Maybe he's not content to just let the two of you be hate-fuck buddies. It has to be stressful to be living with someone that you can't stand the sight of for the rest of your life." Garth reasoned, turning his pleading, gray-blue eyes to catch Dean's narrowed green ones, hoping to at least get the omega to relax a bit. No such luck.

  
"I don't care what he wants me for. He ain't gonna get it." Dean snarled, resuming his frantic pacing.

  
"Look Dean, you don't have to like him... But wouldn't it make your life a whole lot easier just to show up at the dinner? Or at least take a bath? A little bit of compromise here and there might make your stay here less-painful." Garth said gently, nodding subtly at the tub behind Dean.

  
"Less-painful my ass! I'll show him painful!"

  
"Please Dean, at least take a bath for me?"

  
"Why you? I just met you an hour ago."

  
"Because if I can't get you to get clean, Castiel will have my ass..." Garth said, once again giving Dean that sad, pleading look.

  
"Fine." The omega relented, shoulders slumping as he reached for the washcloth and towel. "Why can't I at least have a shower though?"

  
"Showers are reserved for alphas, Dean. You know this." Garth said gently. He stood and walked the short distance to the tub, twisted the handle of the faucet to a warm setting, and then shut it off after the gently rolling water had filled the bath and fogged the rest of the room with steam. "Castiel expects to see you for dinner in 30 minutes, so you will have to be quick, Dean. Your soap, shampoo, and conditioner are right here, on this ledge," Garth tapped a slab of marble jutting out from the wall that held three bottles of pastel-colored liquids, "Your towel will hang here," he tapped a hook on the wall next to the tub, "And things like bath salts, extra towels, washcloths, and soap are in the cupboard underneath the sink. If you need anything, just call me, I'll be right outside the door in your bedroom while you do your thing in here, so there's no reason I shouldn't respond immediately. Any questions about how to use the faucet or anything like that?"

  
Dean nodded his head. "Yeah, I have just one."

  
"What's that?"

  
"Where's the soap?"

  
"Huh? It's right here." Garth said, grabbing a bottle from the ledge and showing it to Dean. "I thought I told you this already."

"You did, but there's a problem with that statement..."

  
"What's that?"

  
"This isn't soap." Dean said, snatching the bottle out of the beta's hand, he read, " _Sparkling Strawberry! America's top Refreshing, Rejuvenating, and Moisturizing Shower Gel of the century! Go to Relaxation and Luxury Products.com to buy over 100+ varieties of the scents you love!_ "He shot Garth a look. "Like I said: this isn't fucking soap. This is a concoction used on 40-year-old single mothers to lure them into a false sense of self-worth and credit card debt."

  
Garth was, suffice it to say, dumbfounded. His mouth opened and closed rhythmically as if trying to come up with a comeback to Dean's recent statement. The omega cut him off before he had a chance.

  
"I want a real bar of soap. There's no way in hell I'm using anything with the words, 'Sparkling' or 'Strawberry' on my body..."

  
"Dean, I can't give you an actual bar of soap- those are for alphas. Omegas use shower gel." Garth said, snapping out of his shock. He gently removed the bottle from Dean's hands and placed it back on the ledge, next to the, " _Drizzling Honeydew_ " shampoo and the, " _Fresh River Rose_ " conditioner. "Besides, I'm sure it won't be _that_ bad. All of the scents smell good and will keep you clean- not much of a difference between washing with a bar and washing with a liquid, I'm sure."

  
"Wrong! When you use actual soap on your body, you don't leave the shower smelling like a fucking flower!" Dean snarled, glaring at the offending bottle like it deserved a certain, violent death.

  
"Dean, it's not a big deal-" Garth could see the rage in the omega's eyes clearly when his head snapped around in warning, so he decided to change tactics. "Hey, at least you don't have to wear perfume or pink, lacy, frilly dresses. I knew an omega from my childhood who did- he's probably still obsessing over, 'Omega Housewives' to this day. Using the desired soap shouldn't be much harder than the thought of what my old friend had to go through."

  
Dean sighed. Garth was right. If he didn't have to walk around in a gown, heels, and bows, then a little bit of shower gel shouldn't hurt him.

  
"Fine... I'll do it- but only if you don't speak a word of this to anyone." Dean hissed to the beta, shooting him a glare to punctuate his point.

  
"Sure, your secret's safe with me." If it could even be called a secret. Everyone already knew what Castiel expected of Dean.

  
"Good. Now out! I need to get ready, and as appealing as the thought is, I'm not getting naked in front of you." The omega barked. He snatched up his washcloth and shifted on his feet awkwardly, watching as the beta quickly exited the room, closing the door behind him softly.

  
As soon as Garth was gone, Dean made a beeline for beneath the sink. He rummaged around it for several minutes, muttering lowly to himself in his search for soap. No such luck. Towels, washcloths, shampoos, conditioners, and hellooooo... Warm vanilla sugar bath salts. Dean's interest was immediately peaked, and he picked up the container gingerly, as if it was about to bite him in the ass.

  
"I shouldn't..." He muttered, turning it over and over in his hands as he tried to force his arm to reach back into the cabinet and set it back down. It wouldn't budge. "I couldn't- it just wouldn't be manly." Turn turn turn over and over and over. "Dean, you don't want to, come on buddy!" Twist twist twist over and over and over. "Ah what the hell?" Dean said, standing and walking back over to the tub. He pulled the lid off and dumped a considerable amount of its contents into the tub. "No one has to ever know."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After Dean had stepped out of his very, very relaxing 15-minute bath (he somewhat wondered to himself how the hell it was even possible to be in there for _only_ 15 minutes), he had dressed as quickly as he could with shaking hands, and followed after Garth through the large, white house on their way to the peculiarly small, personal, dining room. Dean didn't know why he was nervous- it was just a simple meal with Castiel. Castiel, the tall, strong alpha who made his knees weak. Castiel, the alpha whose scent drove him up a wall. Castiel, the man who violently pissed him off at times. There was no way Dean was nervous.

  
As soon as he walked through the doorway, servants swarmed him. One grabbed his hand to lead him to his seat (which was at the opposite end of the table from Castiel), another pushed his chair under him when he went to lower himself onto it, one poured water into a wine glass in front of his dish, and another placed what he assumed to be appetizers onto his plate (which he was very thankful for, because he would be unable to respond to Castiel with bread crammed into his mouth). Music played softly in the background, matching up nicely with the four candles that had been lit in the middle of their table atop a pure, white tablecloth. Roses in small, brown dishes were placed around the candles in a very cleverly-arranged centerpiece that somehow managed calmed Dean's stormy mood. And then Castiel put an end to that.

  
"You will be having hot, lemon juice-drizzled chicken with a side of buttery spaghetti and a caesar salad. I will be having a steak with A1 sauce and a side of carrots and a loaded baked potato, which will have melted cheese, bacon, and sour cream in the center. You will be having a glass of white wine, and I will be having a beer." Castiel said from across the table, where he was fiddling with his napkin almost contemplatively.

  
"You've got to be kidding me." Dean snarled, shooting a sharp glare at the alpha at the other end of the table who looked up in surprise. "You get to have steak, a loaded baked potato, and a beer, while I'm over here stick with chicken, spaghetti, and white wine of all alcohols. _White_ fucking _wine_! Not to mention the salad- I don't even eat salad!"

  
"Dean, it isn't very omega-like to eat an alpha's food, or drink an alpha's drink." Castiel said calmly, going back to pretending like Dean's attitude didn't faze him. "While you're in my house, you will eat properly and will only indulge in wines and champagnes- hard liquor doesn't suit an omega."

  
"Who the hell do you think you are, regulating what I consume and what I don't!?! I'll eat whatever I damn-well please." Dean growled, scowling up at the servant who came by with his dinner, sheepishly set it in front of him, and then jogged away warily.

  
"I'm quite surprised, little omega, that you're reacting this way to my rules. Didn't your father make you eat like an omega when you were living with him?" Castiel responded, ignoring Dean's statement of defiance.

  
"No. Who the hell do you think the main character of all of his books was modeled off of?" Dean retorted, glaring at his husband angrily.

  
"Mmm, no matter. I don't care what your father let you indulge in when you were with him- you will not partake in it in or out of my house. Do you understand?" Castiel said sternly, looking up and smiling politely when a servant came to him with a platter of his food and set it in front of him.

  
"And if I don't obey this rule?" Dean said, voice quiet with rage.

  
"Then you will be punished accordingly." Castiel said. He picked up a knife and fork and cut into the steak slowly, raising his fork a moment later to pop a piece of the meat into his mouth nonchalantly. "And I will have you know that my preferred method of punishment isn't sending you to bed without dinner, or having you stand in a corner, or public humiliation, or many of the typical 'alpha punishments'. I can't stand them- they will not be practiced in my house- except for one form of them. Spanking. I prefer it over all others. It's quick, it gets my message across, and it's over on the same night that it's administered."

  
"Sounds pretty 'typical' to me." Dean growled, stabbing his fork into his pasta and lifting a huge heap to his lips, stuffing it inside his mouth with the manners of a homeless man who hadn't seen food in a week. From across the table, Castiel raised an eyebrow and frowned at the omega's display.

  
"However I treat you is your choice, Dean. If you want me to treat you like an adult and partner to me, then you will act mature and _behave_. If you want me to treat you like a naughty little omega in need of a firm hand to keep them on the right track, then go right ahead and disobey me." Castiel said, taking a bite of his baked potato, then gulped a sip of beer before proceeding with a swipe to his mouth with a napkin. "What kind of spanking you receive depends on what you've done wrong. If it's something that isn't very important, I'll spank you with only my hand, and the most you will get is 20 swats. If it's something that's a big deal to me, then you will get a paddle, hairbrush, a belt- whatever it takes to get my point across to you. If you are a good boy and you behave, I will never have to punish you at all. If your future behavior is what your current attitude indicates that it will be, then your behind will become well acquainted with my palm."

  
Dean stood up so quickly that his chair fell over.

  
"You will not touch me Castiel. I may be your husband, but I'm not yours. You have no right to lay a hand on me."

  
"You're wrong." Castiel said, standing up to meet Dean. "You **are** mine. **All**  fucking **mine**. That contract that you signed? It means that legally, I own you. In exchange of helping you out with your heats, I'm getting paid by your father to keep you. That marriage license you signed? It means even more that you're mine. You know how society feels about alphas and their omegas. When an alpha takes an omega as their wife, that omega truly becomes **theirs** in every sense of the word. **You** belong to **me** , Dean William Novak, and you will get used to it."

  
Dean balled his hands into fists, trying to control the urge to swipe his water glass off the table and clear across the room at the alpha's head, absentmindedly realizing that he never got his wine. He raised a finger into the air to say something angry in retaliation to Castiel's arrogant words, but he thought better of it and lowered it with a huff and stormed out of the room.  
He had made it halfway through a study-type room when a hand clamped down on his shoulder and shoved him up against a wall with a thud! The breath was forced out of his lungs with a whoosh! And his wide, frightened green eyes locked onto two narrowed, fury-filled blue ones.

  
"How dare you leave the dining room without my permission?" Castiel growled, voice low and rough. He pressed his body up against Dean's, moving his face so that it was an inch away from his wife's and whispered, "Don't answer that, little one. I think I like you better silent."

  
Dean narrowed his eyes.

  
"Fuck your silence! You don't control me like you do your servants or the fates of your clients in a court of law. I leave when I damn-well want to."

  
"I thought I told you to hush." Castiel snarled, grabbing ahold of Dean's wrists and jerking them above his head with one, swift movement in a burst of alpha dominance and power when the omega tried to ease out from underneath his husband's body against the wall. "Do not fight me Dean."

  
Dean couldn't help it. A whimper, soft with need and want, escaped his lips at the show of forceful restraint that the alpha had displayed. He bucked against Castiel, back arching instinctively even as slick leaked from his hungry hole, which clenched around nothing, silently begging for the alpha's cock. Castiel's head cocked curiously, and then his eyes widened a moment later in silent realization as Dean's scent reached his nostrils, and then darkened with lust.

  
"You smell amazing without those nasty blockers, little one." He purred gently. "Your scent is fresh and cold like that of glaciers in the middle of an icy ocean. It's pure like morning dew dotting soft, colorful, flower petals, and ashy like an erupting volcano, spewing lava and debris everywhere around it." The alpha's voice dropped an octave as he leaned closer to the omega and murmured into his ear, "Your arousal-" he paused, making a show of scenting the air, "-it's so strong and pungent that I can taste it on my tongue- and it is delicious. It awakens the animal in me- I want to bend you over that far couch across the room and eat you until you're begging me, begging me to relieve you of your need..."

  
Dean gasped, face heating up and reddening at Cas's filthy, whispered words. He squirmed underneath the alpha's predatory gaze and whined lowly in his throat as even more slick leaked out of his hole. It clenched again painfully, reminding Dean of how much he needed his sexy husband's knot, how much he needed him to fuck him until he screamed, how much he needed him to have his way with him. Dean was screwed.

  
"C-Cas!" He whimpered, once-more instinctively baring his throat to the alpha. His body wanted a mate to take him, and it wanted it to take him now.

  
"Shhh little one, I'll take care of you." Castiel murmured, letting go of Dean's wrists in favor of trailing them down his body and hoisting his legs up and around his waist, carrying him to the far couch and gently settling him down upon the cushions. "You won't get my knot today, little one. When and _only_  when you and I are on better terms, will I fuck you. I intend to do it properly our first time, which does not include the two of us hating one another. Do you understand?"

  
Dean whined low in his throat and nodded his head, looking away from the alpha in a silent pout. Damn Cas wouldn't fuck him... Stupid, righteous, good Castiel wouldn't take him until the omega was ready for him. Well pin a medal on his chest and call him an angel, Dean wasn't asking for the alpha to do what was right, he wanted him to fuck him hard and deep and- slick had now soaked quite thoroughly through Dean's boxers and jeans, leaving a large wet spot around where his hole was.

  
"Don't worry, little one. I'll help you find some relief." Castiel murmured, hooking his hands underneath Dean's arms and pulling him so that he was draped over the arm of the couch. "Look at you, so accessible to me now- so needy."

  
The alpha reached around to the front of Dean's body to unbutton his jeans, lower the zipper, and pull his pants and boxers down his legs all the way to his bent knees. He pushed Dean's shirt halfway up his body and began to lay a series of kisses down his back and along his spine, one right after the other until he had reached the crest of Dean's ass.

  
"I'll bet you'll be so responsive for me, little one." Castiel purred, stroking one index finger up and down the globes of the omega's behind gently, making him shiver from excitement. He then draped himself over Dean's back and whispered in his ear seductively, "You're starved for an alpha, I can tell. You're positively _shaking_  from just a couple of kisses. How long has it been, little one, since you've had anyone love you the way you need to be loved, hm?"

  
Dean's voice trembled, "F-fifteen y-years?"

  
Castiel clucked his tongue at him, trailing a hand around the omega's front, then up and under his shirt, running a finger gently around his right nipple before pinching it, making Dean gasp as a sharp bolt of pleasure zinged up his spine.

  
"My my, little one, no wonder your heats are so bad. I'm surprised you're still alive, baby- no wonder you're so needy." Castiel said gently, voice low and caring as he plucked and tugged at his nipple, coaxing moans of pleasure out of Dean's mouth, which hung open at the much-appreciated stimulation. Castiel circled over to the other side, repeating his ministrations to his left nipple with soft, firm pinches while rolling the delicate bud in between his fingers, making Dean writhe and whimper underneath him. "Don't worry little one, I'm here now. I can help you- you'll never have such terrible heats again with me here. It'll be alright."

  
With that, Castiel kissed the back of Dean's neck and began the long journey down his body, kissing, licking, sucking, and biting every inch of freckled skin that he could see protruding from underneath his shirt until once again, he'd reached the clefts of Dean's ass. Only instead of pulling away, he continued lower, pulling the omega's cheeks apart and leaning forward to-

  
Dean jumped and yelped from where he was laying over the armrest of the couch when he felt a soft, firm tongue lick over his entrance.

  
"C-Cas! What are y-you doing? Ah-ah!" The omega whimpered, gripping the arm of the couch, trying to slide away from the alpha's ministrations. Castiel reached up to Dean's shoulder, gripped it tightly, and jerked him back onto his tongue. Dean wailed in pleasure, throwing his head back with a whine as he clawed at the brown leather in an ecstasy that he hadn't felt in years.

  
Cas pulled away slightly, roughly wiping away the slick that had dribbled down his chin with a sly grin.

  
"Mmm little one, has no one ever had their mouth on that pretty little hole of yours before?" He punctuated this with a long, slow lick over the hole in question. Dean shook his head and whined, leaning down to bite his knuckles and soften his needy whimpers against his flesh. "Oh, that's too bad, pretty. Your hole is just so delicious..." He dipped his head to swirl his tongue around the omega's greedy pucker, groaning obscenely and slurping up his slick loudly before thrusting his tongue back inside Dean, earning soft sob of pleasure in return. "Your slick is so damn tasty- I could lick you all night long, little one- get high on your juices..."

  
Dean whimpered loudly, turning his head to look back at his alpha desperately. His face was flushed, eyes hooded from pleasure, lip swollen from where he had been biting it, and a steady shudder carried over his body like a current from the stimulation. Cas groaned at the sight and dug in like a starved man, forgetting all dirty talking, the taking of time, and teasing that he had been doing.

  
Dean cried out in pleasure as Castiel licked him open with abandon, slurping loudly on his slick, and tongue-fucking his hole. He dipped a thumb inside and pressed his tongue along it, licking into him deeply and provoking more high-pitched whines from his omega's throat. Panting, Dean reached down to touch his cock, which lay neglected, rock hard against his stomach and leaking pre-cum upon his flesh.

  
" ** _No_**." Castiel snarled, batting Dean's hand away and replacing it with his own, squeezing the head firmly in his palm as he said, "You see this cock in my hand?" Dean nodded and whimpered. "This is **_my_** cock. It may be attached to your body, but that does not mean that it does not belong to me." He circled Dean's pucker with his index finger and slowly, torturously dipped it inside. "This hole belongs to me too, little one. You will not touch either without my permission. Understand?" Dean nodded his head. "Good boy." Castiel growled.

  
The alpha inserted a second finger into his hole and began to move the hand on Dean's cock up and down slowly, not quick enough to get him off, but enough to tease.

  
The omega whined in frustration and gasped, "Please Cas! Please let me come! I n-need you! I need to c-come!"

  
"Don't worry little one, I'll make you orgasm so hard you'll be seeing stars for days." Castiel purred, crooking his fingers inside of Dean.

  
The omega howled in pleasure, back arching, head thrown back, eyes closed as he came all over the couch from a single touch to his prostate, and then collapsed onto the armrest, blacking out completely.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Dean awoke, he was lying in his bed, all cleaned up and satisfied... And his limbs felt like jello. Castiel was standing over him with face of neutrality, as if he was the essence of emotionlessness himself. And then he smiled- and god was that a glorious thing to behold. It was bright and pleased and white and _perfect_ ,and Dean just wanted to bask in it for at least this moment. It felt good to be on the receiving end of such a thing- it made him feel somewhat better about himself, almost happy...

  
"You were such a good boy for me, Dean." He murmured gently, leaning down to give the omega a kiss on his forehead, and then he walked over to the room's exit, only pausing when he reached the doorway to call over his shoulder, "From now and out, your only form of underwear will be panties." Then he strode out, shut the door behind him, and Dean fell asleep to the thought of, ' _What fucking monster have I just unleashed_?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this fic, please leave me a comment and tell me all about it!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to those of you who think that Dean isn't being rebellious enough against Castiel. Boom boom motherfuckers! A whole chapter hath been dedicated in fighter-Dean's honor. (Hehe)
> 
> Along that note, I am here to announce those whom my dear friend Turtle has picked for me to draw for for my drawing contest. I will say that most, if not all of the entries that she picked came from Chapter 3- Dean and Castiel's wedding. 
> 
> Here we go:
> 
> 1\. FuzzyPagan- Ruby putting the dress on Dean, confused that it's tighter-fitting than she expected.  
> 2\. DaddysGracelessAngel/gguy/Misha_is_my_spirit_animal78- Dean after he's ripped his dress off and is walking down the aisle in his regular clothes/while flipping the bird.  
> 3\. Christilyn- Dean in bed as Cas smiles down at him.  
> 4\. gguy- Cas taking Dean panty shopping. At a very expensive, high-end male omega lingerie store. Maybe with Cas allowing Desn to get 'boyfriend' style pants shorts too. 
> 
> If you liked this chapter, please leave a comment telling me what you liked about it!  
> 

Mind-numbing boredom. Dean had never been struck with such an intense case of it in his entire 32 years of life. Castiel had left the day after the omega and he had gotten married to attend a business trip in Chicago for a very-important, court-case-of-the-century kind of deal. He'd apparently been requested for some rich and famous congressman's son who'd been arrested due to some pretty-severe murder charges.

  
The young man's father had a very-important role to play in politics, and he'd felt that letting his son take the fall for the accused crime would cost him dearly in the end with scandal and shame, so he'd wanted the alpha especially as his lawyer in court, for he was well-known as one of the best-damn attorneys in the business. Castiel had gotten on the soonest plane available the moment that he'd heard, abandoning Dean on the premise of being payed $250,000 in return for freeing his client. Suffice it to say, Dean was not pleased.

  
Living in a new house, smack in the middle of the country? Wherever the fuck 45 minutes away was from a city in any direction you could be pointed, Dean mused, was definitely where he now took up residence. The sheer lack of things to do was outraging to Dean's poor, unusually-active omega, who was now pacing restlessly inside of him. So he was driven to his last resort.

  
All 8 seasons of Doctor Sexy M.D. later and Dean thought he was going to cry. Not even the lead actor's scruffy, handsome face could cheer up, or even remotely interest him anymore. The omega knew he was truly and utterly screwed.

  
"Castiel fucking Novak, if you ever fucking return to me, I'm going to fucking murder you." Dean snarled under his breath, sitting up from where he'd been hanging upside-down off the side of his bed.

  
The blood rushed out of his head, what with the friendly neighborhood gravity's help, and Dean swore that he was going to pass out. Little spots of black clouded his vision, accompanied by a wave of nausea and a feeling of dread as the omega laid himself out the proper way on his bed and waited for his head to feel right again.

  
"I fucking hate you." Dean growled at the painting of Castiel and his family on the wall beside his bed. "You and your smiling little face."

  
In all truth and honesty, Dean knew he couldn't completely blame Castiel for abandoning him. Even with a new wife, the alpha still had a job he had to do, and the omega reasoned that he couldn't just drop everything for him... Who would? Dean wasn't anything special or rare... He was a stupid little omega who fought his authority every chance he got, someone who would do anything to get his way, even if it meant doing something drastic... Like smashing every photo of Castiel in the fucking house (except for the one on the wall beside his bed). The servants were still baffled as to how he'd reached the big one that hung 9 feet up on the wall in the main living room downstairs. Dean had felt an extra swell of satisfaction well up inside of him at their confusion. What could he say? He took pride in his work.

  
Unfortunately, as punishment for his little stunt, Dean had been locked in his room for the entirety of the day- at least until Castiel Skype-called him this evening like he'd been doing every night since he'd arrived in Chicago. Dean was less-than impressed- if the alpha wanted to talk to him, then he could just scoot his little butt on home and speak to the omega face-to-face, rather than calling him and acting like it would make up for his absence. Newsflash: it wouldn't. Dean was still mad, and there was nothing Castiel could do to get the omega to participate in a conversation with him. Except that he could. Apparently, Dean had forgotten that Cas was a lawyer, and that it was his job to find ways to get what he wanted. Damn that son of a bitch.

  
The clock rang six, and not even a minute later, Garth let himself into Dean's room, carrying with him a heavy black monitor in his arms, which he set up on a table that had been scooted over to the end of Dean's bed to give Castiel a good view of his omega. Where are the keyboard and mouse, you might ask? Well... After last night's fiasco of ending the call after telling Castiel to fuck himself up the ass with a rusty screwdriver, Dean was longer allowed the privilege of controlling the device- Garth did it for him.

  
Speaking of Garth, he had just pressed the call button on skype, and it began to ring. A moment later, Castiel picked up.  
"Good afternoon, Dean. I see you've been a bad boy since I left." Fuck that deep, gravelly voice of his. It definitely didn't turn the omega on, and it even more so didn't make him squirm just from the sound of it. Fuck it all to hell.

  
"If you wanted me to be good, then you shouldn't have left." Dean countered, scowling at the man on the other end of the line. Castiel looked like he had just stepped out of the shower... His hair was visibly wet and pointing in all directions in a messy, drenched mop. It shouldn't have been sexy to Dean. But it motherfucking was.

  
"Little one, I never took you as one to throw temper-tantrums like that." Castiel purred, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "I always imagined you as being the silent, rage-full type that gives everyone that cold shoulder when they're pissed... Apparently I misjudged you."

  
"Apparently." Dean agreed, narrowing his eyes at the alpha, who seemed less-angry and more intrigued or amused. It was as if the omega's actions didn't bother him at all... A fresh jolt of fury forced its way up Dean's spine at the realization.

  
"So, you were punished, little one." Castiel began, a glint of anger appearing in his eyes. "I'll have you know that I do not approve of it, and it shall not happen again." Dean was taken completely aback. "I told you that you would have free reign of the house, and I meant it. If you are ever put under restriction like that again, I want you to call me me immediately, understand?"

  
Dean bristled.

  
"I don't need you sticking up for me."

  
"I'm not sticking up for you. This is _**my**  _house, _**my**_ rules. If those servants of **_mine_** want to continue to have one of _**my**_  jobs, then they'll do as **_I_** say." Castiel snarled, giving Garth, who'd been standing beside Dean the whole time, a meaningful look. "My home is not your prison Dean- I never intended for it to be. You can go wherever you please- _except_  for Room 20, but then I made that clear day 1. Bartholomew will be your driver as well if you'd ever like to take a trip to the city to shop, or have a little fun, or visit your family. Garth should have the platinum card that I left you- feel free to use it whenever you'd like to buy whatever you want. It's yours."

  
"Fuck you!" Dean seethed. "I'm not your little bitch that you can pamper and spoil however you'd like- and you're not my motherfucking sugar daddy. So get that stupid little train of thought right out of your stupid little mind- I'm not your pliant little whore who will go limp in your arms if you dangle little presents in front of my face. If giving me a platinum card was an attempt to make me like you better, then it's not working, and you can go right ahead and fuck off right fucking now."

  
"You're right, **_little one_**. I'm not your sugar daddy. I'm not expecting you to give me any ' _favors_ ' in return for the things that I give you- which is the definition of a sugar daddy- isn't it? All I'm doing is giving you the option of going out and having a little bit of fun for yourself whenever you'd like without me looking over your shoulder all the time like your own personal prison guard. So take my platinum card, **_little one_** , and use it on yourself." Castiel replied in between clenched teeth, trying to remain calm in front of his angry little omega, who was certainly irked by the pet name, "little one", now more than ever.

  
"My name is Dean- not fucking 'little one'. Don't you ever fucking call me that- I'm not that kind of an omega."

  
"If you _act_ like a little one, then I'll call you ' _little one_ '. Behave darling, because I'll be home in a few days- and by then, I'll be able to take direct action to your insolence myself." Castiel snapped coolly, and then the screen went blank. The alpha had hung up on the omega.

  
Dean snarled in rage. He grabbed the pale white vase on his night table, painted with colorful flowers on the sides, and flung it at the painting of Castiel. It missed by about half a foot, and made contact with the wall with a crash! Shards of glass fell to the floor and scattered everywhere upon the dark, mahogany wood, creating a dangerous, messy pathway for the omega to navigate to the doorway.

  
Garth stood in place for a moment in shock, staring at the remains of the once-beautiful vase, almost as if he couldn't believe what had just happened. He stayed frozen until Dean made a move to get off the bed and storm out of the room, the omega's voice of reason clouded with fury from his recent "chat" with his new husband.

  
"Hold on, sir- I don't recommend you move from your spot on the bed until I've cleaned this mess up... It could cut your feet open- if some of the wounds are too deep, you could need stitches. Castiel would be furious if I let you go... Let me sweep it up- it'll only take a couple of minutes." He pleaded, placing a hand on the omega's shoulder to stop him. Dean wheeled on his servant and slapped his hand away with a low, hostile snarl.

  
"I don't give a fuck about Castiel's little feelings. I'll do what I want, whenever I want- and I won't take orders from him, or you. Besides, I'm a tough little one- I can handle myself if I step on a piece of glass. It won't be the end of the fucking world- I used to have a life outside of Castiel once too, you know." Dean said, not even realizing that he'd just referred to himself with the same pet name that Castiel had been calling him since day 1. Then, with his head held high, he spun on his heel and stalked out of the room, leaving Garth to look helplessly after him...

  
The omega was just angry enough to pull a stunt that he would never otherwise attempt. One that was costly, one that was dangerous, one that would catch Castiel's attention and act as a spit in the face (without, of course, actually having to spit in his face).

  
Victor Luné was one of the 6 house servants that had been sent to work for Castiel as a gift from a wealthy businessman in France last year. His previous employer (this man actually somewhat owned the servants) had been freed from claims of human trafficking, due to the lawyer's help, after he had been caught trying to buy a young Russian girl off of the hands of a rich, Japanese banker in Miami. Castiel had gotten the charges removed on the condition that the man hightail his rear-end back to France after a long, 36-hour trial. He had received Victor and five of his other friends 6 months later.

  
Victor was a tall, quiet man with somewhat-long locks of dark brown hair and two, calm brown eyes. He worked very diligently for Castiel- especially when it came to dirty clothes. Every Tuesday evening at 4'o'clock sharp, he would always, like clockwork, haul every single load of wash available down three flights of stairs to the basement where he would begin the long process of sorting them into piles and stuffing them into the wash machines. Today was a Monday, one day before Victor began his work. One day that Dean had to destroy the beta.

  
He tip-toed down the stairs, as quietly as a pissed-off omega could (which was to say, similar to that of the stomping of an angry toddler), and made his way over to the four washing machines, all lined up in a row against the wall, right next to the four driers that were also lined up in a row against the wall.

  
Narrowed green eyes scanned the contraptions, looking for any signs of weaknesses. Replace the drier sheets with tissues? No, too small of an operation. Catch Victor off-guard tomorrow and mix some red clothes with the whites? No, Victor took his job as the laundryman _very_ seriously. He would notice. AHA! Dean couldn't withhold a sheer, sinister snicker at the thought of poor Victor's face, frozen with shock and horror as he made quick work of a water hose, unscrewing it and letting it hang limply on the floor. With a quick twist of his wrist, water began to spew out of it, all over the once-dry concrete. He repeated the action to all three other water hoses before bolting back upstairs. Victor wouldn't know what hit him. 

  
Dean made his way up to the second floor, involuntarily heading back to his room. He was still in a pretty dark, stormy mood. A couple of hours of Led Zeppelin and Metallica might calm him down, then he would turn in for an early night of fitful sleep. Tomorrow would be a big day- for Victor and him both.

  
As Dean walked down the hall, something different caught his eye, and he skidded to a halt so fast that he almost fell right over onto his face on the floor.

  
It was a door unlike any of the other doors in the house, slightly ajar, showing only a sliver of a dark room, one too dark to see into, that it was leading to. Instead of the usual brown, hickory doors of the house, it was pitch-black mahogany with a small, peeling white sign that hung smack in the middle of the wood with the black number " **20** " painted onto it.

  
Dean cocked his head, body twitching slightly in indecision. Thoughts of mystery, wonder, confusion about what could be so important as to hide behind a mysterious door, inside of a mysterious room raked his brain. He wanted desperately to go inside, to turn on the lights, to find out what Castiel Emmanuel Novak was hiding- what his biggest secret of all just so happened to be.

  
Still, Dean was indecisive- the possible consequences of his actions could be severe... On one hand, his curiosity would be relieved and his torture from a lack of knowledge would be over. On the other hand, what if Castiel's secret wasn't something that he wanted to see? It definitely wasn't his place to know what Room 20 held, but not knowing was driving him insane... He wasn't used to having things kept from him. In the end, curiosity won out.

  
Dean reached out a tentative hand to touch the rusty silver knob, ready to finally find out why Room 20 was such a big deal, when who should come along but queen bitch herself?

  
"Dean Winchester!" She snarled, smacking his hand away from the knob and jerking the door shut with a slam! "Castiel told you not to enter- insolent fool. You can't obey for one day can you?"

  
Bela Talbot: a tall, long, light-brown haired, sharp-blue-eyed British woman with a condescending attitude and a sly sense of humor. She was the appointed task-master over all of the other servants, and rightfully so, as she could sometimes be pretty damn bossy.

  
From day 1, Bela had made it clear to Dean that she had it out to him. Having always had a bit of an " _extra-special_ " liking for Castiel, she hadn't been very pleased when the omega had up and stolen away her dream-man. Ever since Castiel and Dean's holy union had been sealed, she had seemed intent on making the omega pay for it.

  
"Well hello Bela, I wasn't aware that you weren't working the streets tonight." Dean purred, automatically straightening under her angry, scrutinizing glare.

  
" _I'm_  not, because my co-workers told me that _you_  were." She said coolly, roughly grabbing Dean by the arm and steering him down the hall to his room. "Don't think that I'm not going to alert Castiel about this... When he hears what you tried to do, you will be in all sorts of trouble."

  
"Whoa whoa whoa there, this isn't the movies where after someone is disposed of, you can just waltz right onto the scene and steal their man. That's not how life works, honey." Dean growled, digging his heels into the ground and pulling back against Bela's hold on him. "And damnit, I'm Castiel's wife. I demand to see Room 20- I deserve it. This is my house as well as his, so let me the fuck go."

  
"You don't deserve anything you little _**tramp.**_  If Castiel tells you to stay out of a certain room, then you will stay out of it. No questions asked. It shouldn't be that hard to understand." Bela said, voice way too sweet to be authentic as she shoved Dean into his room. "Don't make me lock you in here- because I will. Good evening, _**omega.**_ "

  
Dean darted to the door to watch her go, eyebrow cocked as he suppressed a snarl. She was so arrogant- thinking that she was something special with her shiny-black high heels, perfectly-kept brown hair, and neat, gray pantsuit, when in reality, she was a witch. A damn witch above all others- no wonder Castiel didn't return her affections.

  
Dean ducked back inside the room when Bela stopped to speak angrily to Garth, who had just started back up the stairs, and then jabbed her finger in the direction of Dean's room with a scowl.

  
"-And make sure he doesn't come out again tonight. I don't want to be the one to clean up his messes." She hissed, shooting a glare in Dean's direction.

  
"How am I supposed to keep him inside?" Garth asked, not even bothering to try to mask his disdain for her command. "Castiel wasn't too happy to hear that you'd locked Dean in his room once before."

  
"I don't know- figure something out. Keep him under control." She said, pursing her lips haughtily. "And don't you worry one bit about Cassie- I've got him wrapped so tightly around my little finger that he won't even care that his precious little omega _**pup**  _was sent to his room like a child. In fact, when that big bad alpha comes home tomorrow, I'll turn on all of my charm at once so that he won't even know what hit him."

  
"Are you sure that you want to do that?" Garth asked cautiously. "I don't think he has quite the same feelings for you that you think he does... I've seen the way he looks at Dean- it's clear to see that he's so far gone on the omega that he hasn't got eyes for anyone else."

  
"Nonsense!" Bela snarled, quivering hands balled into fists by her sides in a sudden bout of rage. "He's mine- always has been. No snotty, disrespectful, defiant little omega is going to take that away from me."

  
Then Bela turned on her heel, flung her glorious hair over one shoulder, and stalked down the hall, clearly miffed at the other beta's implications. Garth sighed in her wake, shrugging in exasperation, and muttered under his breath about how this would be a long night as he made his way towards Dean's room in defeat.

  
The omega shut his door quickly before Garth arrived and stood stock still, eyes darting around rapidly as he racked his brain for something to do- anything. And then a wicked idea formed in his head... Bela would regret everything she'd ever said about him by the end of the night... She would never again make the mistake of underestimating the very, very naughty omega.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this chapter, please leave me a comment telling me what you liked about it!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHOUTOUT TO CONCELIALISS- HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!
> 
> If you liked this chapter, leave me a comment and tell me what you liked about it!

Dean awoke abruptly the next morning when his door flew open, swinging so hard on its hinges that it hit the wall with a thud, leaving a dent where the point of impact was made. A moment later, a very-angry Bela Talbot stormed through it, only stopping at the end of the omega's bed to jab a finger in his direction frantically, mouth opening and closing in shock and fury.

Where her once-long, once-gorgeous hair used to be, were huge, gaping patches of skin. In places that she wasn't completely bald, strands had thinned out dramatically and hung down off of her head in strings, giving her the appearance of what Dean had always imagined a mental patient to look like. She was absolutely hideous.

  
"Y-you-" Bela began, voice shaking in rage. "I-I'll get you f-for this! When Castiel h-hears about what you've done-"

  
"Hears about what?" Dean interrupted innocently. "That the head of his servants was mysteriously pranked by someone in her home? Remember honey, you live in the hired-help house just behind this grand white one- not to mentioned that I was on lockdown last night. It wouldn't be too far of a stretch to believe that I'm not the culprit of this." Of course, Dean definitely _was_  responsible for Bela’s new hairdo, but he would never admit it to the beta. "In fact, all of the facts point _against_ me, _**darling**._ "

  
"I'll bet i-if we ran a scan of my s-shampoo bottle, we'd find your f-filthy fingerprints all over it!" Bela stammered, her balled fists beginning to shake by her sides.

  
"I don't think so, honey. I've been in my room all night, _remember_? Garthy-Poo was even appointed at my door for sentry duty- he can testify that I didn't leave this house even once after you left." The omega purred smugly. "It was probably one of the other servants. Most of them do, after all, have something against you- the way you push them so hard to be immaculately perfect at their jobs around the house? I would imagine it would be quite difficult to have to live up to such high standards all. the fucking. time." Dean's eyes twinkled mischievously. "You ain't got shit on me."

  
"You w-will regret this, Dean Winchester! When I get t-through with you, Castiel will be so disgusted by your face that he won't k-keep you at all. Mark my words, **_omega."_** Bela spat, turning on one barefoot heel, and storming out of the room, leaving Dean to keel over with laughter in his bed.

  
About an hour later, after a much-needed bath and a change of clothes (which, to Dean's dismay, were a pair of yoga pants and a very-feminine, oversized, gray wool sweater- typical omega attire: soft and girly and not at all Dean), Dean headed downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast.

  
He shot a smile at Inias, the cook, as he made a beeline for the pantry. It only took him about a moment after opening the door to realize that there was nothing at all that he wanted to eat on any of the shelves. There were about 5 large boxes of oatmeal, a single container of cornflakes, 3 loaves of bread, and not enough booze. No seriously, Dean **_needed_** a drink after slipping on those yoga pants... The omega knew he would never sleep again- just his luck says they would find a way to haunt and humiliate him in his nightmares.

  
"Hey Inias, buddy?"

  
"Yes, sir?"

  
"What's on the breakfast menu?"

  
"Eggs and sausage with some orange juice, some golden, fluffy, hot-cakes with a mug of hot cocoa, and sausage biscuits and gravy with a glass of milk." Inias replied politely, taking a moment to let the corners of his mouth curl up into a friendly, disarming grin.

  
"Can I add a side of bacon to the hot cakes?" Dean asked, giving the cook the saddest pair of Bambi Eyes he could muster.

  
"Bacon is an alpha's food, sir. I'm not allowed to... I could get fired for cooking you some." The other omega said, smile faltering slightly as if torn between giving Dean what he wanted, or denying him one more pleasure in his life- just like everyone else in this damned house had done at least once already.

  
"Oh... Well, I guess I could-"

  
"-Have some bacon just this once?" Inias butted in, shooting him a sympathetic look, having changed his mind at the last minute. "No one has to know."

  
Dean plopped himself down onto one of the wooden chairs tucked underneath the kitchen table, smiling wildly at the other omega when he turned on the stove, then proceeded to dig through the refrigerator for the desired food. With a victorious, "Here it is!" Victor pulled a package of tightly-wrapped bacon out from inside of the meat drawer, unwrapped it, and laid it out delicately in strips inside of a big, black frying pan, which he had sprayed with vegetable oil to make sure the meat wouldn't stick.

  
"What kind of pancakes do you want Dean?" Inias called over his shoulder. He had moved away from the sizzling bacon for only a moment to assemble all of the supplies needed to make said pancakes, lining each ingredient up on the counter in a neat, perfect line, ready for use.

  
"Do you know how to make walnut pancakes?"

  
"Walnut pancakes with a side of bacon and hot cocoa it is, Dean!" Inias said cheerfully, reaching into a cupboard to pull out a bag of the nuts and set them beside his mixing bowl.

  
"Also..." Dean said, silently debating on how badly this next request would demolish his tough-guy persona. "Could you cut up some slices of strawberry, raspberry, and kiwi and place them on top with whipped cream instead of syrup? I know you have them... I've seen the insides of your fridge before."

  
"No problem, sir!" Inias replied with a grin as he reached for the refrigerator door handle. "Is there anything else you'd like to add to your pancakes?"

  
"No, but thank you." Dean said, leaning back in his chair and relaxing. Could this morning get any better? Visions of Victor and Castiel's shocked faces flashed before his eyes. Oh hell yes- a lot better.

  
An hour and five pancakes later, the omega was sure he was going to have a baby. His stomach felt like it was going to burst, bloated and full and protruding from underneath the hideous gray sweater. If only Castiel could see him now, he would understand just whom he'd married- maybe Dean would even get lucky and the alpha would run for the hills? It was worth a shot... speaking of shots.

  
Dean raised himself out of the chair, promptly stripped off of his clothes (with the exception of his little white briefs, another courtesy of Castiel Novak), and threw them clear across the room where they hit the wall with a splat!

  
"Good day Inias, thank you for breakfast. It was amazing."

  
Inias looked scandalized.

  
"You're welcome... sir?" He squeaked, looking away. "Anytime you need me, I'll be glad to serve you."

  
"Well I'll be glad to let you serve me- your cooking is superb." Dean called over his shoulder as he strode confidently out of the room.

  
From there, the omega made his way through the house to the master living room, intent on watching some Dr. Sexy M.D. from the huge, 75" flat screen, the largest Dean had ever seen, that hung on the wall. When he entered the room, however, instead of it being empty or void with the exception of a couple of house servants, his eyes met two, icy blue ones. Those ocean orbs locked onto his, and the both of them stood at a stand-still for several minutes, neither daring to look away nor get closer to one another... then those blue eyes traveled down, down, down, all the way to the skimpy little briefs, the only thing covering Dean's indecency.

  
"I see you had quite a bit of fun while I was away." When he spoke, Castiel's voice was rougher and deeper than usual, that gravelly sound sending icy shivers up and down Dean's spine, and the omega straightened immediately with understandable wariness underneath the alpha's scrutiny.

  
"Depends on your definition of 'fun'." Dean growled, narrowing his eyes, offhandedly wondering to himself when the hell Castiel had gotten home. After a moment of pause, he hesitantly proceeded to walk over to the couch, grab the tv remote, turn on netflix, and sit down beside the alpha as if he hadn’t said anything.

  
The awkward silence between the two of them grew even more rapidly once Dean started Season 7 episode 5 of Dr. Sexy. They continued to not say anything to one another until Dr. Sexy was in an elevator with one of the pretty interns, making out intensely.

  
“Your scent suggests that this scene turns you on. I do not appreciate that behavior. It would greatly please me if you switched to something else more appropriate for an omega like you.” Castiel growled lowly, narrowing his eyes at Dean from where he sat beside him on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest jealously.

  
Dean couldn’t resist taking in a big whiff of that bitter, bitter-sweet scent of icy jealousy wafting off of the alpha, and he sighed with a smirk, enjoying the effect he had on the other man. A moment later, he regained his composure. Gripping the remote, he turned the volume up to 80 and cast a side glance at the alpha.

  
"I’m sorry, Castiel.” He shouted over the sound of Dr. Sexy and the intern, who were both now making love in the elevator. “I can’t hear you over the sound of my wet dreams coming true.”

  
Castiel snarled angrily, snatching the remote out of Dean’s hand with a growl.

  
"You will change the program that you intend to view, or not watch anything at all.”

  
"I’m sorry Castiel- but I don’t remember a time where you were given any authority at all in which it was acceptable to tell me what to do.” Dean growled, wrestling the remote back from the alpha.

  
"Omega, it isn’t polite to ignore me when first walking into a room. You could have at least said hello.”

  
"Oh yeah? Well I’m sorry, Cas, but if you wanted to talk to me, then you should have stayed home with me instead of heading off to fucking Chicago to fight your little court case. Now that you’re finally home, I just feel like we have nothing to say to one another- after all, I think that by now, I have completely exhausted my vocabulary during those nightly phone calls we’ve been having.” Dean hissed, narrowing his eyes at the alpha angrily.

  
" ** _Dean,_**  I…” Castiel suddenly stopped, mid-sentence, as if he was pondering a thought that had just popped into his mind. “No, that can’t be it…” He muttered under his breath, looking away in frustration.

  
"What can’t be it? Speak up, angel.” Dean growled, head snapping up in shock from the surprise term of endearment he'd unexpectedly blurted out. Cas was now giving him one of his famed, intense stares: head cocked, eyes narrowed, thoughtful.

  
"Hm… From your reactions, I can only theorize that you missed me, Dean.”

  
"What? Hell no. Who would miss a pompous, asshole alpha like you?”

  
"You’re upset that I left you.” Castiel growled, ignoring Dean’s last statement in favor of gripping him by the shoulders and jerking him down onto the couch beneath him roughly, surprising the omega enough to let forth a squeak of surprise as he landed on the cushions. “You tore all of my photos up to get my attention, didn’t you, little one?”

  
"I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dean hissed, reaching up to grab the back of Castiel’s neck and force him onto the floor with a swift, fluid motion of his arm. The alpha hit the ground with a grunt, quickly twisting his body around so that Dean missed him when he fell as well. From there, he rolled over onto the omega, gripping his wrists and pinning him to the floor.

"Of course you do, little one. You were desperate for attention, weren’t you? I should have known- it’s quite common for omegas to be much needier than alphas or betas. I don’t know why I thought you’d be any different… I left you all alone, little one. All by yourself with no one to talk to or spend time with. I’m sorry…” Castiel murmured softly.

  
Dean narrowed his eyes. Fucking alphas- leave it to them to think that all omegas were the same. Leave it to them to form stereotypes. Leave it to them to be fucking idiots. He growled low in his throat and thrust a knee into Castiel’s gut, making him gasp and recoil in pain. Dean grabbed the alpha’s shoulders and jerked him down beside him, rolling over so that he was now on top, pinning him down with his weight, which was centered completely on Castiel’s abdomen- for now he was straddling his stomach, both legs on either side of him on the floor.

  
"You’re a real jackass, you know. You leave me the day after we get married, come back all high and mighty, and then expect me to accept you back with open arms. It isn’t much of a wonder that you were single before I came along- or did you fuck Bela too? She seems to have some pretty strong feelings for you.” Dean hissed, gasping when Castiel knocked him off of him with a sharp jerk of his body and a hostile snarl, slamming him into the floor and then pouncing on him, gripping his wrists and holding them above the omega's head aggressively.

  
"Don’t you **_ever_** say that again. I have eyes for no one but you- hard as it may be to believe. Bela is just-”

  
"-trying to get you to replace me? She’s had it out for me since I arrived here.” Dean growled, struggling futilely to free himself from where he lay underneath the alpha- whose grip on his wrists was tight enough to leave bruises.

  
"What? Why didn’t you tell me this?” Castiel said, eyes widening in what looked to be a genuine reaction surprise- almost as if this was the first he'd even thought of such a possibility.

  
"Who the hell would believe me over the head of your servants?” Dean grumbled, trying and failing to wrench his arms away from the alpha’s fists.

  
"I would. If I had known that she was bothering you, I would have fired her on the spot.” Castiel said sternly, gazing down into Dean’s eyes seriously, brow furrowed in concern.

  
"How would I have known what you would have done if we haven't even gotten to know each other? All I know about you is that you’re a controlling, alpha dick. Who the hell can predict what sort of reaction you were going to have if I had tattled on your servant manager?” Dean growled, finally jerking his arm free of Castiel’s grasp.

  
"I’m offended you would even imply that I would downplay your issues, Dean. You’re my wife… You come before Bela and her feelings. I wouldn’t have punished you for something like this.” Castiel said, sitting back on his haunches from where he was straddling Dean's midsection.

  
"Bela seems convinced that you would be more sympathetic to her case.”

  
"Well Miss Talbot can shove that thought right up her ass, pack her bags, and take her issues elsewhere. I will not even entertain the thought of letting someone who threatens my omega continue working for me.” Castiel said, narrowing his eyes in irritation. He lowered himself back down over Dean’s body possessively, drawing closer to the omega- so close that Dean could feel the alpha’s warm breath on his face. “In fact, I wouldn’t ever even entertain the thought of being with anyone else, little one.”

  
"I'm not your ' _little one_ ' and I sure as all hell ain't **_your_**  omega. I'm not anyone's fucking omega." Dean snarled, shoving Castiel off of him with a sharp push to his shoulders.

  
"You're mine because of the contract that you signed. **_Remember_**?" The alpha growled, moving to sit up on his knees in front of the omega.

  
"There was nothing on the contract that says that I belong to you. You don't fucking own me." Dean snarled, hastily standing to his feet. "Fuck off."

  
"Dean, I-"

  
It was right around his time that Garth bolted into the room, frantically searching for Castiel as if his life depended upon it. When he spotted him, he sprinted over to the alpha, skidding to a stop in front of him hastily.

  
"Master Castiel- your laundry room! It's flooded!" Garth shouted, pointing to the door that he had just come from.

  
"What!?!" Castiel said, scrambling to his feet with the gracefulness of a slug. "Lead the way!"

  
Garth turned tail, bolting out of the room as quickly as he'd entered, Castiel following close behind servant, who led them through the house and down two sets of stairs to the basement, with Dean tagging behind them smugly.

  
It was filled with water from the cement floor, all the way to the sixth stair leading up out of it. Items of clothing lay floating around, along with a couple of the laundry baskets that hadn't already sunk, some ruined dryer sheets, and a couple of trash cans- all making up the chaos that had become the basement.

  
Castiel stood still, dumbfounded- speechless as he stared at the mess... Water lapped at his feet from the Victor's movements, who was wading through it to get to the wash machines and dryers. The alpha's brow narrowed suspiciously- as if a certain thought that he didn't like passed through his head.

  
"How could this have happened?" His voice was low, gravelly, and dark with a quiet anger that hadn't yet removed all semblance of self-control that he might have had.

  
"All of the hoses were unscrewed- every one of them are free and spewing water..." Victor cautiously replied from his position beside the machines, exchanging nervous glances with Garth, who stood on the stairs beside them.

  
Castiel visibly tensed up at the beta's words, not even turning around to look at the omega as he seethed, " _ **Dean**._ You wouldn't happen to have anything to do with this, would you?"

  
Dean couldn't find it in himself to answer.

  
"If you don't respond to my question, _omega_ ,then I'll assemble every servant in the house, have them form a circle around us, and make them watch as I paddle your behind raw." Castiel snarled, finally turning to lock his burning eyes onto Dean's.

  
"If you fudging touch me Cas, then I'll fudging kill you."

  
" ** _Answer the fucking question_**."

  
"YES! I FUCKING UNPLUGGED THE HOSES. Maybe if you hadn't been gone for an entire week, I wouldn't have done it? I mean how else am I supposed to entertain myself with you absent- there's literally nothing else to do around here." Dean snapped defensively, backing fearfully up the stairs as the alpha started making his way towards him, hands balled into trembling fists by his sides.

  
"This wasn't entertainment, Dean. This was revenge." Castiel growled lowly, moving so that he was only three steps below him. "You were angry that I left, so you trashed my house, you ripped up every photo of me, you put Nair in Bela's shampoo- is there anything else even left to do to me, hm? Or have you exhausted every option? Maybe you'll poison my shampoo, hm? Or rip me up like you did my paintings? Or maybe you'll drown me like you did this laundry room? Who knows?

"You're an unpredictable, selfish, bratty child who throws little hissy fits when he doesn't get his way. Well news flash, Dean Winchester: you'd better start showing me some respect- I dragged you out of your father's house, I can throw you right back in- and this time you won't have anyone there to save you from your heat except for any, old, random alphas you can get on the streets. You would enjoy that, wouldn't you? I mean after all, you didn't seem to have a problem with strutting around in nothing but your underwear for all of my servants to see you in all morning. So maybe I'll show you what it's like to be desperate, hm? Does that sound fair to you, **_omega_**?" Castiel growled, jaw clenching and unclenching tightly in anger.

Dean was speechless. The cool, calm, somewhat-kind alpha that he'd known Cas to be since the day they'd married had just lost it. The scent of pissed-off alpha poisoned the air, almost making Dean gag- and he instinctually cowered under his searing gaze. His hands began to tremble, eyes narrowing in fear and defiance, mouth opening and closing... So he did the only logical thing he could think of: run. He bolted up the stairs, throughout the house, to the kitchen where he rapidly tugged on his sweater and yoga pants, then to the front door, only pausing to send a text to Bartholomew to bring the car around to the front for him.

  
From there, Dean bolted outside and got in, hastily telling Bart to take him to the nearest establishment that happened to sell alcohol. Tonight, he would cast all of his worries away. No Castiel. No alpha. No care in the world. Not even the thought creeping in the back of his mind that when he'd exited the house, Castiel hadn't followed him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this chapter, leave me a comment and tell me what you liked about it!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING* THERE ARE MENTIONS OF PAST ABUSE IN THIS CHAPTER. *WARNING* DEAN EXPERIENCES PTSD FLASHBACKS. *WARNING* IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY RAPE OR PTSD, READ UP TO THE POINT WHERE DEAN MEETS ABADDON, THEN SKIP DOWN TO THE END OF THE CHAPTER WHERE CASTIEL PUNISHES DEAN. YOU WILL NOT MISS ANYTHING MORE THAN ABADDON TOUCHING DEAN A LITTLE BIT AND CASTIEL BURSTING IN TO STOP THEM- NOTHING TOO EXTREME. THIS IS A TRIGGER WARNING. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. 
> 
> *ANOTHER TRIGGER WARNING* IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY NON-CONSENSUAL SPANKING, THEN DO NOT READ THE END OF THIS CHAPTER. YOU WILL KNOW WHEN TO FLIP AWAY, SPECIFICALLY WHEN CASTIEL AND DEAN PULL UP IN CASTIEL'S CAR IN FRONT OF CASTIEL'S HOUSE. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. If you did, please leave me a comment and tell me all about it!

When the car reached, “Benny’s Cajun Bar and Grill”, the sun was just starting to dip below the horizon. Shortly after he had originally set out for the restaurant, Dean had changed his mind. The thought of getting stone-cold drunk at 12 in the afternoon was not a pleasant one, and the omega had informed Bartholomew to just keep driving.

  
They had wandered through the countryside, taking back-roads and streets that weren’t commonly used in order to avoid most people. The drive had been as much a calming one as it had been a hard one for Dean. Every time he thought he was done fighting Castiel in his imagination, a new scenario popped up, and the omega was left to angrily daydream. The entire ride over, Castiel’s harsh words had rung through the omega’s head like a dreadful, looping nightmare of nothing but the words, " _I dragged you out of your father’s house, and I can throw you right back in_.”, right along with the bit about Dean preferring to be used by any, every-day, random alpha on the streets. It made his omega bristle. So when the sight of, “Benny’s Cajun Bar and Grill”, finally loomed into view through Dean’s window, he breathed a sharp sigh of relief.

  
When the car rolled to a stop next to the curb in front of the restaurant, Dean hopped out hastily, nearly collapsing onto the pavement, every muscle in his body now trembling from the rage and distress he had been inwardly feeling for the past five hours. He bolted up the steps and into the restaurant, and before he could stop himself, plopped his sorry behind down upon one of the wooden stools that sat beside the bar counter, ordering three shots of hard, straight whiskey right off the bat. Tonight was already going to be a long-ass evening, but he was determined to make the next morning worse.

  
Shot after shot, Dean downed them with a frightening intensity, not even bothering to acknowledge the bartender’s one raised, questioning eyebrow. After the sixth one, the omega wasn’t even staggering (he silently attributed this to his years of built-up alcohol tolerance- or his repressed, and heavily-denied alcoholic tendencies), but had built up enough false-confidence to leave the stool to find some company. Oh hell yeah, Castiel wouldn’t know revenge until Dean stumbled through the doors of their home, reeking of somebody else’s scent. If the alpha hadn’t kicked the omega out before for flooding his basement, he definitely would now- and good riddance to him. Maybe then, Dean would finally be free from that handsome devil’s shockingly good looks, and sharp, suffocating hold on his life.

  
The first alpha that Dean meandered over to was a tall, broad-shouldered, serious-looking man. He had brown eyes, dark skin, a long, black mustache that framed his upper lip, and no hair on top of his head at all. To be honest, Dean didn’t think the man to be very attractive, and frankly, he probably could have chosen better, but at this point he no longer cared. So, stubbornly, he shoved out his hand for the man to shake, and opened his big mouth.

  
"Hello, my name is Dean Winchester. Come here alone?”

  
"Gordon Walker…” The man replied quietly, ignoring Dean’s hand, dark, brooding eyes narrowing dangerously. “And no, I didn’t come alone, but if I did, I wouldn’t be out looking for you.”

  
Dean was taken aback. He had never been rejected quite so bluntly, or as rudely as this man had done now- hell, he'd never been rejected at all... Doing his best to school his features and keep the blatant shock from rising to his face, he slowly withdrew his hand, shook his head, and walked away to hit on somebody else.

  
The next person was a short, slim, middle-aged woman with short, neatly-kept black hair, lively brown eyes, and a kind face. She was more than good-looking and seemed pretty approachable- not that Dean should have approached her. She had more of a mother-material vibe than a, “let’s fuck like rabbits” one, but Dean had never claimed to be smart, and at the moment, he was just too desperate and upset to care- so over to her he went.

  
"Hey, Dean Winchester.” He purred, jabbing out his hand and turning on his best omega charm, belting out his smooth line from before, "Did you come here-”

  
"Look kid, I’m not here for trouble. I just came to this bar for a blind date and a drink- nothing more. You seem like a nice enough boy, but I’d rather not risk my neck to talk to you.” She said bluntly, fixing her stern, iron gaze onto him even though she still politely shook his hand stiffly. "So I’d suggest you’d turn right around and head on back where you came from.”

  
Once again, Dean was turned-down flat. This was beginning to get ridiculous... The omega wasn’t the conceited, “I’m the greatest thing since sliced bread” type, but even he knew that he was somewhat attractive- gorgeous even, by some people’s standards. How the hell two separate people could turn him down in a matter of minutes from each other- no matter. He would find a good lay if it was the last thing he did.

  
For the next hour, Dean hit on every man and woman in the bar with a pulse (not to say that there were people there without one). No takers. Nada. Zip. Zero. Zilch. No one even looked remotely interested when refusing his offers. So, with a heavy heart and dragging feet, Dean made his way back to the bar, plopping himself down onto the stool dejectedly.

 

"Howdy brotha, what can I get for you?” A deep, rough voice asked from across the table, jarring Dean out of his depressed fiddling with one of the empty shot glasses he’d downed within the past hour. 

 

The stranger was a new bartender- probably here to take over his shift for work in place of the previous bartender, the short, skinny man whom had served Dean since he had arrived.

  
The new employee was a tall, stocky alpha with a light brown, scruffy beard, blue eyes, a cajun accent (probably part of an act to attract business for the cajun-themed restaurant), and on top of his head, he wore a Greek Fisherman's Cap. His expression was a firm, yet gentle one, and his scent was very, very calming to the distressed omega, who slumped even further on his seat in a typical, relaxed response for omegas.

  
"A shot of whiskey’s good.” The omega grumbled, and glaring down at the table with a tired, defeated sigh, ran his finger over a stain in the wood.

  
"Had a rough night, boy?” The bartender asked, pouring the dark, amber liquid into the glass, almost all the way to the top, before sliding it to Dean slowly, careful not to cause a spill.

  
"You could say that.” Dean said, gripping the glass and bringing it to his mouth, tossing it back quickly, before placing it down on the table with a loud clack!

  
"Wanna talk about why a pretty little omega like you is out here drinking himself into a stupor in a dive bar like this one on a Thursday night?” The man asked, settling himself down on his own stool across from Dean, leaning towards the omega over the table on his elbows in a gently-inquisitive way.

  
"Well, it was originally because me and my- this guy I live with, got into a fight today. I came here to drink, get laid, and forget him, but… Everyone’s rejected me so far.” Dean explained, his eyebrows furrowing once more in confusion. “No one has ever turned me down like this…”

  
"Well, brotha, I don’t know everything that life has to offer, and I certainly ain’t the best at advice, but I do know one thing for certain: No one wants to have their lives ruined by Castiel Novak.” The bartender said, shaking his head at Dean when he turned to gaze at him incredulously, mouth hanging open in surprise.

  
"How did you-”

  
"-know that you belonged to him? It’s all over the news: ‘ _Our beloved attorney, Castiel Novak, has finally decided to take up the domestic life, get himself a lover, and have a few pups_ ’. And no civilian in their right mind would knowingly flirt with Castiel’s wife.” The bartender said, smirking at Dean from across the table.

  
"Damnit- and I thought I was repulsing to everyone here.” Dean snarled, knocking back the second shot that the other man had slid to him as quickly as he could, growling and shaking his head at the sweet, familiar burn of the alcohol that swiftly slid down his throat.

  
"Naw, far from it omega. You smell sweet- too good to be true. Usually, folks 'round here’d be all over you- eat you up quicker than the mosquitos in a swamp in the middle of June. But not with Castiel glaring over your shoulder like that. Not a chance.” The stranger said, sending Dean a reassuring smile. “Oh, by the way, name’s Benny.” He jabbed his hand out toward the omega in an offer of friendship.

  
" _Benny_? As in the guy who owns the bar, _Benny?_ ” Dean said incredulously, grabbing the alpha’s hand enthusiastically and shaking it with a vigor he hadn’t felt in a long time.

  
"That’d be me, brotha.”

  
"Well this is a fine place you’ve got here.” The omega said, smiling at Benny brightly and casting a glance around as if to show his appreciation. “Say… You wouldn’t want to, perhaps, get out of here and go somewhere with me for the night, would you?”

  
"Brotha, it’s a tempting offer, but I’m gonna have to say no. You smell absolutely delicious- but I ain’t taking my chances with your alpha. I ain’t scared by much, but I can truthfully say that he gives me the jitters. ‘Specially since he has my future, and any of these here civilian’s futures, in the palms of his hands. You don’t go around messin’ with a guy like Castiel Novak’s wife.” Benny said, shaking his head with a resigned smile. Dean opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by a neatly-manicured hand clapping onto his shoulder, accompanied by a firm, feminine voice.

  
"Oh Benny- rejecting a pretty little omega like this? I knew you were stupid, but I didn’t know it carried to this sort of extreme.”

  
Dean lifted his head and found himself gazing into two, piercing gray eyes. Long, gorgeous, red hair tumbled down black-leather clad shoulders, and around her neck, she wore a small, sophisticated necklace comprised entirely of shining, white pearls. She wore a dark jacket over a blue shirt with a photo of a burlesque lady printed on the front, deep, navy-blue jeans, and a pair of tough, black combat boots that completed her outfit. She was smoking hot and seemingly harmless, judging only by looks alone- but Dean knew better than to trust first impressions. Her scent pointed out that she was not only an alpha, but a predatory one at that- and interested in him. Very, very interested.

  
"Hello, my name is-”

  
"Dean Winchester? Yes, who hasn’t heard of you?" She cut him off again and lowered herself onto the bar stool next to him, very nonchalantly, but still quite the queen her attitude suggested she was.

  
Every bit of her aura screamed dominance and control, displaying clearly that she was very used to getting her way- no matter what distance she had to go to ensure that she got it. Dean wasn’t usually fiercely-attracted to hard, overbearing alphas, but for some reason, heat pooled deliciously in his gut from the series of looks she directed his way, not-so-discreetly, every few moments.

  
"My name is Abaddon- no need for last names, puppy. I know you’ve heard of me.” She crooned confidently, nodding at a scowling Benny with a smack of a few bills down on the counter, and he got up reluctantly to fetch her her drink.

  
Indeed, Dean had heard of Abaddon. She was all over the news as one of the most successful attorneys in the business, and almost as good, if not _just_ as good as Castiel was… not to mention, his rival. The constant feuds between Abaddon and Castiel were legendary. As two, powerful, instinct-driven alphas, they clashed in every single way, making the papers on more than one occasion for their very-public outbursts. As far as Dean knew, he and Abaddon were the only two human beings alive to make Castiel lose his calm, collected temper. The omega took some pride in that.

  
"So puppy, what brought you to this bar tonight? You look troubled." Abaddon said coolly, eyeing him like a hungry lion sizing up a zebra for a meal.

  
"My husband and I got into a fight..." Dean said, omega shrinking underneath her sharp, alpha gaze.

  
"A fight? How tragic." She crooned, lifting her hand to his head to rub her knuckles along the side of it mock-sympathetically. "It must have been pretty awful to drive an innocent little boy to a dump like this."

  
"I guess..." Dean said, beginning to feel uncomfortable- but he wouldn't back down. He was still just angry enough with Castiel to go through like this.

  
"And what did you come here looking for, exactly?" Abaddon asked, gray eyes scanning him analytically- but no less predatory.

  
Dean didn't answer, only lifted the bottom of his sweater in a manner that he hoped was seductive, exposing his little red, erect nipples to the alpha suggestively. Abaddon raised one smug, interested eyebrow.

  
"I think I'll be able to suit your needs." She purred, turning back to Benny, who was standing behind the counter holding her drink, listening to the conversation with a scowl. "You know, it's a terrible thing to keep a lady waiting for her drink." She said darkly, narrowing her eyes at the bartender.

  
Benny growled something lowly under his breath and slid her her shot while shooting Dean a look of warning. The omega ignored the alpha, looking down at the table and tracing one of the stains in the wood, pretending like he didn't know what Benny was silently advising against. He'd gone too far to turn back now.

  
"So... Do you wanna get out of here?" Dean asked, glancing back up at Abaddon, who was now giving him the most terrifying of sexually predatory looks...

  
"Love to." The alpha purred, standing up out of her chair abruptly. She turned to Benny, smiling coyly, and slammed three 20 dollar bills down onto the counter. "Add Dean's charge to my tab. Keep the change." And with a wink and a not-so-innocent wave, Abaddon grabbed Dean's hand and they were off.

  
Instead of calling a taxi like a normal person, or even telling Dean where they were going, Abaddon hauled him three blocks down a sidewalk and about a half a mile out of the small town to a dumpy, old motel on the side of the road. The polite nod and lewd wink the alpha shot at the receptionist when they dropped a small, metal key into her hand at the front desk, clued the omega in on the fact that this wasn't the first time Abaddon had been here, and by extension, probably not the first time she'd brought a guest with her either.

  
A short trip around the outside of the building later, Dean was pushed into the 17th motel room harshly, almost hard enough to send him to his knees. He stumbled a few steps- just enough to regain his balance, when Abaddon was upon him, pouncing like a cougar onto the back of its small, weak, innocent, defenseless prey.

  
Her long, slim fingers made quick work of his sweater, jerking it up and over his head and tossing it to the side like a dirty, unimportant rag. When her fingertips ghosted along the hem of his yoga pants, goosebumps broke out upon Dean's skin, and small, cold rivulets of sweat rolled down his back from the back of his neck, instantly sending him into chills... And not the good kind. He took a wary step back, batting her hand away quickly as if he'd been touched by a hot iron.

  
"Oh baby, getting cold feet?" Abaddon crooned, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously. "A minute ago at the bar, you were all ready to do this, but now you're having second thoughts? Quite unpredictable. No wonder you and Castiel clash."

  
Dean's brows furrowed at her words. Did he really want to do this? Get back at Castiel? Make the alpha pay for the way he'd been treating him from the start? Yes... So why was he suddenly ready to change his mind? Was it because he was disgusted at the very realization that when she called him " _baby_ ", it made him want to vomit- but when Cas called him " _baby_ ", it mysteriously warmed his insides?

  
When Abaddon saw Dean's hesitation, she paused, facial features softening into fake, calculated compassion.

  
"It's okay baby-" There it was again. _That word._  "We can go slow. I'll make you feel amazing." Abaddon purred, stalking forward to run her fingers along the hem of his yoga pants again. Then with a sharp jerk, they were yanked down to his ankles, leaving him bare and nearly-naked beneath the alpha's scrutiny. "You're so much cuter in person..."

  
She reached her hands up to flick and pinch his nipples in her fingers, the touches sending terrible, achy shivers up and down Dean's arms and back muscles, and he began to tremble. She leaned her head down to lick and suck at his neck cleverly, careful to not leave a single hickey in her wake as she kissed a path over his chest, mapping out her next movements. Where a normal omega would feel arousal, Dean only felt a quickly-building panic. His throat began to close up, cutting off his airways, and his hands became clammy, sweaty where they now shook by his heaving sides. She flicked her tongue over his Adam's apple, nipping and dragging her teeth over his skin in what she must have hoped to be an erotic gesture, but Dean only wanted to flinch away.

  
It was almost as if he couldn't move- just hopelessly lost, forced to stare into her dark, sinister gray eyes that stared up at him as she continued her descent down his softly-trembling body with ease. Then, like a flash of lightning, her eyes were yellow- a pale, sickly yellow. The omega's mouth went dry, and he took a shaky step back, too fearful to gasp or even scream... Visions of a man with yellow eyes standing once-more before him plagued his memory, and his knees almost buckled in panic. Then, a second later with a shake of his head, her eyes were back to gray again.

  
This was too familiar.

  
"What's the matter, puppy? Why'd you back away? Scared?" Abaddon taunted coldly, narrowing her eyes in irritation at his suddenly not-so-cooperative behavior. Dean didn't answer.

  
She rolled her eyes and took his silence as a cue to begin her advances once-more, reaching forward to brush those long, disgusting fingers against his face. Memories of _his_ voice, _his_  tongue, _his_  eyes- images of whistling, stinging whips flashed against the back of his mind at the sudden touch. She quirked an eyebrow in confusion and leaned in again to brush her soft lips against his, hoping to get him back on track with the current task at hand- but it didn't work. Those yellow eyes stared straight back at him through her own. Unwavering, unshaken, unmoved.

  
Dean shoved away from Abaddon, taking a quick, shaky step back until his back hit the wall. The strong reminder of reality should have snapped him out of his trance, but his sudden hallucinations had become too powerful. He was trapped.

  
Abaddon narrowed her eyes and strode forward angrily, gripping the omega and jerking him back into the center of the room, now wrapping her strong, tough arms around his back so that he couldn't get away, and kissed him harshly like she hadn't before... But Dean didn't see an Abaddon. He saw _him,_ and the bombardment of long-struggled-over visions and terror started a stream of tears down his cheeks that he couldn't control, and wouldn't ever admit to later.

  
Abaddon bit his lip and twisted her hands in his hair sharply, sending a whole new wave of cold, sweat droplets down over his flesh. _His knees were buckling- he was sure of it_.

  
" _ **You're a good boy Dean**_..." The omega wasn't sure if it was Abaddon or _him_ who said it. _Somebody was crying- who the hell was crying!?!_

  
" _ **You just need a good, strong alpha to put you in your place- then you'll behave like the good little boy that you are**_." Now Dean was _sure_ it was him.

  
_Among the haze of terror and pain inside the omega's head, someone was calling for help, begging for anyone to save him... Someone that sounded suspiciously like him... His damn voice_.

  
**_Help. Help! HELP!_ **

  
_Why was nobody coming to his rescue!?! Claws! Sharp, dirty, nasty claws scratched at his body, coaxing inhuman shrieks and cries of distorted pain out of his throat- or was it some sick, twisted pleasure? He didn't know, and he couldn't tell. All he knew was that he had to get out of there- had to get away! But chains bound his wrists and ankles... He couldn't move! The voices wouldn't go away... They wouldn't go away_... And then one loud, angry voice broke through the sea of screams and moans of Dean's demons, and a hand took a hold of his upper arm, jerking him firmly back into a hard, gently-heaving chest, and by extension: reality.

  
" _ **Abaddon**_. I knew you were terrible, but I didn't think you'd stoop _this_  low." Castiel snarled, words shaking with rage. His gravelly voice, mixed with fury and anger was both calming and safe to the frightened omega, and completely terrifying.

Dean would never admit it, _ever_ , but he was relieved that Castiel had shown up when he had. The alpha had saved him from whatever sex with Abaddon was, and had put an end to his petrifying flashbacks with a single sweep of his arm. The warm, firm arm around his chest was comforting to the omega in more ways than one. 

  
"Stoop _how_  low, Castiel? Your little omega came crawling to me himself. I didn't have to do anything at all to seduce him." Abaddon said coolly, cocking her head tauntingly at the other alpha. "It's almost as if the little slut _wanted_ me to fuck him."

  
"Don't you fucking **_dare_**  talk about my wife like that." Castiel growled, drawing Dean even closer to his warm, comforting chest possessively. "And you knew better than to indulge him in his wants. You did this just for fun- just to get to me."

  
"How can you prove it?" Abaddon hissed, finally losing her cool, calm composure. "Your omega whore wanted me to take him. If you could only see the way he tried to seduce me-"

  
" _I_   _saw_." Castiel's tone was frigid, colder than ice or a bitter winter chill, and Dean tensed... "I have been following him the entire night, from the moment he stormed out of our house. I saw _everything_."

  
There was something in his voice that put the fear of god into him- something that made him want to run and hide. But there would be no escape for this omega.

  
"I'll deal with him when we get home. For now, If you don't slander Dean's name in public as a terrible, cheating slut, then I won't tell the press that you're an evil, dirty mistress who likes to steal other alphas' omegas. Do we have a deal?" Castiel growled, releasing Dean and stepping forward to stick out one of his hands for Abaddon to shake. She considered it for a moment, as if counting the costs of not agreeing with Castiel, then gripped his hand tightly and shook it reluctantly.

  
"You have a deal. You and your omega are safe- for now." She said, tossing her long, red hair over one shoulder and stalking out of the hotel room with her head held high in a failed attempt to regain the last shreds of dignity that she had from before this entire incident.

  
When Abaddon was gone, Castiel jerked around to shoot Dean a sharp death glare and hoist him off the ground, pausing only to snatch his discarded clothes off the floor, and then carried the omega out of the room like a rag doll. Dean, thrust into a fit of an entirely different kind of panic, began to thrash and kick his legs out from where he now hung over the alpha's shoulder.

  
"Let me down Castiel- so help me I'll call my father-" The omega gave a surprised little shriek when he was roughly discarded onto the plush seat of Castiel's car, and jumped when the alpha slammed the door shut with an intensity he'd never seen before. It was pretty easy to notice that the Castiel was fuming.

  
"And tell Daddy Dearest what? That you tried to cheat on me with the first slut that came your way? I'm sure he'd _love_ to hear how far his darling little son has come along since he moved out." Castiel snarled, voice quiet and rough with rage.

  
"Who'd blame me? You've made my life absolutely miserable ever since I came to live with you. Thought I'd return the favor." Dean retorted, now beginning to shake with fear in his seat. The scent of **_very_** pissed-off alpha filled his nostrils, bitter with a sharp, frigid bite. Long gone was the soft, gentle, calming scent of forest rivers and fresh pines, replaced by jagged ice and forest fires and anger. Dark, crisp, bloody anger.

  
"I've done everything I can to help you adjust to your new life. Nothing I have done to you yet has been harsh enough to warrant, " Castiel paused and motioned wildly in the air with his hands, the first uncontrolled and uncalculated gesture Dean had seen him make yet, "this!"

  
"Controlling my diet, picking the clothes I wear, organizing the forms of entertainment I indulge in, even dictating how I bathe myself!" Dean shouted, ticking each sin off on his fingers as the car began to move. "My life has become a mish-mash of things that aren't me. Things that I hate. I have to put up with anything so far that you've made a change to- which is everything. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of being controlled. I'm sick of you."

  
"Well I'm sorry Dean. You signed a marriage contract. You made a commitment. You're going to have to just deal with me." Castiel snarled, throwing Dean's clothes into his lap.

  
The whole of the rest of the car ride back to Castiel's big, luxurious, white house in the countryside was spent in fuming, raging silence. Both alpha and omega sat perfectly stock still in their seats, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in a stare-off that was only broken by the vehicle rolling to a stop at their destination. Castiel was the first to speak.

  
"You are to go up to your room and kneel at the foot of your bed. I shall be joining you in a moment." He said, voice quiet, calm, but filled with an alpha dominance that only he could conjure up. It filled Dean with dread.

  
Dean's mouth fell open, eyes wide in surprise.

  
"W-what? You can't just-"

  
"What? Spank you? Discipline you? Reprimand you?" Castiel interrupted Dean's protests sharply with a wave of his hand as he exited the car and held the door open for the omega. "Normally, I wouldn't even think of it. Spanking my partner, how domineering an action that is for me to take part in? Especially for an alpha with his omega wife... But I think this situation is quite a bit more ' _extreme_ ' than normal instances. Not only that, but I warned you the very first day that you arrived here that I would spank you if you misbehaved. I think _now_ is a good time to make good on that promise." He drew himself up to his normal height, reached his hand out to Dean, who still sat rigidly still in his seat, and said in a calm, dark, sinister voice, "So, _**Dean** , _you will head up to your room, fold your clothes neatly, setting them on your dresser, and then kneel at the foot of your bed. Am I being perfectly clear?"

  
Dean hesitantly took Castiel's hand, letting the alpha help him down out of the car, schooling his features to hide his shock, and resigned himself to his fate.

  
"Yes."

  
"Yes _**what**_?" The alpha barked.

  
"Yes, Castiel." Dean winced, clutching his clothes to his chest and bolted towards the house, running up the white marble stairs, flinging open the delicate French doors, and stampeded inside. He ran all the way up the staircase, down the hall, and to his room, slamming the door open and collapsing inside, panic beginning to overtake him. He was going to be spanked? He hadn't been spanked in years!

  
For an instant the thought of fighting back worked it's way into his mind. Maybe he could lock and barricade his door? Push his bed against it, and his dresser, and his nightstand, and everything else he could get his hands on. If Castiel couldn't get through the barrier, then it would stand to reason that there was no way he could spank him right? But Castiel Novak always found a way. That's why he was always so good in a court room.

  
Maybe Dean could flee? Pack a bag and get the hell out of dodge! He could run- run like his character did in the movies! If Castiel couldn't find him, then it would stand to reason that he also couldn't spank him! No. This was stupid. Dean had fucked up, _he_  made the mistake, so now he would just have to pull on his big-boy shoes and take his medicine like a man. If John Winchester ever found out that Dean had even _considered_  running away from his problems like a wuss, Dean was sure he wouldn't be able to ever sit down again. His father would personally throttle him- which, Dean was quite sure, would be more painful than any punishment Castiel had planned.

  
Besides, he was at least 95% sure that Castiel would find him if he ran. The lawyer was clever, and he was smart. He wouldn't be fooled by a scruffy little omega with an attitude. So, with a great big, resigned-to-his-fate sort of sigh, Dean folded his clothes, placed them on his dresser, and kneeled at the end of his bed quietly like he was told.

  
For the next half an hour, he was left to himself and his increasingly-frantic thoughts. He had no idea what to expect- no idea what Castiel would do. Maybe he'd just yell at him a little... Not likely. Maybe he'd divorce him... No, Dean wasn't lucky enough for that. Maybe he'd enroll him in an omega-obedience-class that had become more and more popular in the present age... Probably not. Castiel had already proven that he didn't believe the same ways that many alphas often did, choosing a more liberal marriage than the traditional conservative ones. Maybe he'd hand him back over to his father to deal with... A shudder went down the omega's spine. God, he hoped not. Maybe it wasn't too late to run away? The window was right there, ready for him to take-

  
With a soft creak, the bedroom door swung open, and in strode Castiel Novak. His features were calmer than the ones in the car, and it was obvious that he'd calmed down quite a bit since then, but soft fury and bubbling rage still held his features captive. In right his hand he held a small, wooden hairbrush, and in his other hand, a long, stiff, hickory paddle. He made his way over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, placing both items beside him before crossing one leg over the other and folding his hands on his knee, gazing down at Dean without saying a word. The silence was unnerving.

  
Eventually, he spoke.

  
"Come here, Dean." His voice was dark, quiet with wrath, deep with anger, and **_all_** , one-hundred percent alpha. Dean's omega quivered with fear, and he felt himself stand, almost-automatically, and make his way over to Castiel, stopping to stand before him, only in his underwear.

  
"Yes?" He whispered, eyeing the paddle out of the corner of his eye as he stood there, his heart beginning to beat faster at its implications.

  
Castiel took his hand and gently pulled him closer, uncrossing his legs so that Dean could fully stand between them, albeit uncomfortably. He looked the omega up and down for a moment, assessing him and confirming silently to himself his decision. When Castiel finally spoke, his voice was still quiet, still calm, but low and dark, powerful, frightening, voice trembling slightly from his rage.

  
"You disobeyed me Dean. Not only that, but you slunk away to _**Abaddon**  _in order to defy me. You don't know what kind of a woman she is, Dean. She's like a spider, small but sly- she'll weave you into a web that you can't escape from- that even I won't be able to rescue you from. She's cunning, she'll pin you down until you can't move- she'll break every bone in your body just to get to me... And yet you undressed in front of her... You let yourself be vulnerable in front of **her**.You were going to let her taste your body- a right that she should have never have had." Castiel's voice continued to rise and rise in fury, eyes narrowed, flashing fire and boiling lava, showing his intentions- showing his anger. "You're _mine_ , do you understand that? **_Mine_**!And you went out there and put yourself in danger- put yourself in harms way, because you couldn't get what you wanted."

  
"And just what is it that I wanted!?! As I recall, you were pissed at me for flooding your laundry room!" Dean burst out, shaking his head angrily.

  
"It's not about the laundry room. It was _**never**_  about the laundry room! You were angry with me because I left you for business- I couldn't pay you the special attention that you so desperately needed- and I'm sorry. I see what I did wrong now. Omegas are extra-sensitive and need special, gentle care from an alpha- I shouldn't have thought of you as an exception to that fact, and I should have brought you with me. That way you wouldn't have felt so alone..." Castiel muttered, voice soft with regret, that hardened to a growl for his next words, "But that doesn't excuse what you did tonight. Do you _know_ what society can do to a disobedient, unfaithful omega!?! There are _charges_ that can be brought against you in _court_ , **_Dean_**. No matter how angry I am at you, _I'm your alpha._ It's my _**job**_  to protect you, care for you, and meet your needs. I can't do that when you're rotting away in a prison cell."

  
Dean's jaw locked stubbornly. Who did the alpha think he was to go around insisting that Dean's wellbeing was _his_ responsibility to maintain? From the omega's perspective, he'd always got along just fine before Castiel came into his life, and he was sure that he'd do just fine after he left.

  
Castiel sighed, leaning back on the bed and schooling his emotions to show apathy.

  
"The way I see it, you have three options: A.) You can willingly lay over my knee and take a good 30 swats with this paddle or hairbrush, counting each one for me as I go along, after which you will immediately go to bed and be forgiven of tonight's entire episode. B.) You can make a run for it through that doorway that you've been eyeing this entire conversation, and I will chase you, catch you, and then proceed to carry out 40 swats with the paddle or hairbrush, over my knee, in front of my entire staff, following which, you will go to bed and be restricted from certain household privileges for the entirety of the following week. Or C.) You can choose to fight me with those clenched fists of yours, which I guarantee you won't even come close to winning, receive 50 swats with the paddle or hairbrush, go to bed, spend the the following two weeks without household privileges **AND** help clean up and repair the washroom you destroyed, and pay for the paintings and photos of me that you mutilated while I was absent from this house." Castiel finished calmly, looking at Dean expectantly. "What'll it be Winchester? We don't have all night- your bedtime is pretty soon."

  
Dean was practically vibrating with rage. " ** _Fuck_**. **You**." He seethed.

  
"Oooo-" Castiel winced. "That little bit of disrespect cost you a good 5 more swats. Would you like to continue like a child, or would you like to pick your punishment like an adult?"

  
Dean narrowed his eyes, gritting his teeth to keep from growling out anything that would get him into more trouble. As pissed as he was, he didn't want his backside to pay for his mouth's mistakes.

  
"Option A." He muttered, clenching his fists tighter together.

  
"Good boy. I knew you could be sensible." Castiel said coolly. He grabbed Dean's wrist with a jerk of his arm, pulling the omega, who squeaked in surprise, swiftly across his lap.

  
Immediately, Dean was filled with a sense of panic. He hadn't been spanked since he was 28! Memories of the pain, the throbbing, and worst of all, the _crying_  flooded back to him, and out of fear and an intense sense of dread, he began to squirm and struggle to get off of the alpha's lap, the scent of scared omega filling the room.

  
Castiel was, suffice it to say, unimpressed. With a swift sweep of his arm, he'd pulled Dean's little white briefs clean off of him, leaving him naked underneath his stern, alpha glare. He placed his strong, firm, left hand on the small of Dean's back, holding him down, and trapped the omega's legs with one of his own, putting an end to his frantic thrashing. With his right hand, he picked up the hairbrush, turning it over quickly in his fingers so that the safe, flat backside of it was what would strike Dean, instead of the sharp, dangerous bristles used to brush one's hair. And then everything went still... The omega didn't move a single muscle, and neither did Castiel, almost as if both were waiting for the other to make the first move...

  
"You were a _very_  naughty boy, Dean."

  
"At least I didn't actually sleep with Abaddon." He protested, taking the time to grip Castiel's knee with his hands in rigid anticipation.

  
"Yes, but you deliberately went out to the bar, searched for a partner, brought them back to the motel, got undressed, and would have carried on with intercourse had I not stepped in. It's about as close to having sex as you can get without actually doing the deed. You deserve the 35 swats you are about to receive." Castiel said calmly, laying the hairbrush down on the bed. "Speaking of which, there has been a change of plans. I think instead of using an inanimate object on your behind, I'll use my own hand. That way I can have the satisfaction that it was truly me who made your skin red by inflicting retribution."

  
A twinge of fear spiked in Dean's chest when he felt the alpha begin to stroke his cheeks gently, rubbing them firmly as if preparing them for the first strike. Desperation was all he had now, so as a final fuck-you to Castiel, Dean determined that he would go silent. Stone-faced. No whimpering, no crying, no groveling like a baby. If Castiel wanted a reaction out of Dean by spanking him, then he wouldn't get one. Another small victory for the stubborn Dean Winchester.

  
There was nothing that Dean could think of that was more humiliating than having Castiel spank him like a soft, submissive, small little naughty omega. As if the fact that it was **_Castiel_** who would be administering the punishment wasn't bad enough. Dean had always been able to handle John giving him a little smacking here and there, but  ** _Castiel_**? Dean could already feel his cheeks heating in embarrassment from the knowledge that he would never be able to live that down. The damage it would do to his tough little strong, omega front that he had spent so many years building up would be catastrophic...

  
"Are you waiting for the sun to rise to spank me, or are you getting cold feet? I always knew that my ass was cute, I just never thought it was _intimidating_ before." Dean taunted, wiggling his butt to defy the alpha.

  
"That's 5 more. You're up to 40 strikes now." Castiel growled, rubbing Dean's right cheek a little harder in irritation. "Now act like a big boy and take your medicine like an alpha. _Count_  for me."

  
With that, he dealt a quick, sharp blow to the omega's pale, lightly-freckled behind. Dean's mouth fell open in a silent, inward gasp, his fingers clenching around Castiel's knee tightly in shock. He'd never felt such a hard hit- not even from his own father (which sort of made sense, since John essentially spoiled him rotten)! The scent of hurt omega rolled off of Dean against his will in waves, immediately stinking up the room in a way that should have struck up the protective, alpha side of Castiel- but he proved himself stronger than that with a second, _harder_ swat a moment later!

  
" _I said_ **_COUNT_**!" Castiel snapped, holding Dean even firmer against his knee at the sharp jolt his little body gave from surprise. "If you don't tell me what number it is, then I'll hit you again, and it won't count for the official number of swats that you will receive. If you miss a number, then we will start this whole ordeal all over again. Now let me ask you one more time," Castiel growled, "What is the number of official swats I've given you?"

  
"O-one!" Dean hissed, voice trembling. He was irate. Furious. Boiling with rage and humiliation. He would rather be anywhere else in the world than over a scolding alpha's knee, being reminded what was what. He would rather his own, alpha brother Sam spank him than Castiel. At least he'd be able to look himself in the mirror the next day...

  
The next spank came swiftly, right across where the first one had landed, only quite a bit harder and all the more painful, making Dean yelp and jump at the screaming contact.

  
"T-two." He gasped, leaning his head down to latch onto his front two knuckles with his teeth, sucking lightly in order to create a distraction from his stinging backside.

  
When the tenth strike rolled around, Dean's initial resolve had completely faded away, and he had begun to try to crawl off of Castiel's legs, whimpering and remorseful- if not for his shameful actions, than for the painful repercussions.

  
The alpha smelled of indifference and stony anger- just like he had when the omega's punishment began, which held absolutely no hope for the spanking to end anytime soon. Though he wasn't heartless... Somewhere around the 7th hit, he had begun massaging the cheek that he struck immediately after delivering its blow, helping to ease the pain and settle the omega down in between strikes.

  
"F-fucking hell..." Dean whimpered, clinging to the Castiel's knee for dear life. By now, the alpha's flesh had painful, crescent-moon-shaped marks dug into them from the omega's fingernails, the skin beginning to lightly bleed from the abuse it took.

  
"If you can't do the time, then don't do the damn crime." Castiel snarled, bringing his open palm down upon the omega's now-flaming backside with a smack!

  
Dean bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, eyes scrunching shut in a vain attempt to thwart the single, cold tear that rolled down his cheek. Following the tear were soft, pained sobs that rocked Dean's body, sending trembles and shakes through his shoulders from the terrible onslaught of smacks against his behind.

  
He didn't answer quick enough, and was quickly rewarded with a swift, biting strike from the paddle! He squealed upon impact, scratching and scrambling at Castiel's knee to get away from the wood's nasty sting, and was given three extra strikes for his trouble and a stern hand around the back of his neck, holding him down firmly in reprimand.

  
"When I want your silence, I'll ask for it. Keep the goddamn count, _omega._ " Castiel snarled, delivering two more swats to a now openly-sobbing Dean, who was not only trying to instinctively curl in on himself for protection, but also seemed to be instinctively trying to draw closer to the alpha, as if expecting him to do his damn job and keep his omega safe. Little did Dean's traitorous body know: no help would come to it from the alpha.

  
"E-eleven." He whined, burying his face into Castiel's knee, wetting it with his tears.

  
From then until the 25th strike he was given the paddle. Gone were the gentle, soft strokes of the alpha's hand, easing and rubbing the pain away from his skin in between strikes. Now he only got hard, stinging wood that made him jump and cry and whimper, and caused his body tremble and shake from pain and regret, the harsh, angry words of Castiel, who only seemed to get angrier and angrier as the onslaught of spanks continued, and the stinging reminder that this was the alpha he was now married to: a pissed-off, sad little lawyer who thought of him as nothing more or less than a cute little omega wife who should be beaten down and broken into submission under his firm hand and outrageous household rules. He was doomed to spend the rest of his life living beside Castiel Emmanuel Novak, where every meal, shower, and clothing change would remind him of his place, his status, his forever position in the alpha's mind. And with that thought, Dean shattered.

  
Throughout the rest of his punishment, Dean William Winchester was gone. Replacing him, was a stiff, emotionless omega who absently felt the sting of the paddle, but did not register it. He continued to count, but did not know what he was saying, nor heard his own, sad, monotone voice. He didn't even notice the streaming tears that continued to drip from his eyes like a river... The only thing he felt was pain. A brokenness that Dean had never felt before.

  
When John had spanked Dean in the past, he'd always done so out of love, because he knew what was best for Dean, and that correction could and would make him a better person. He'd always tenderly held his son when it was over and tell him how much he loved him in only so many ways (in a gruff, fatherly way of course). But he'd never tried to break Dean. He'd always accepted that his son was a little more stronger-willed than other omegas, and had always let him have that difference...

  
Not Castiel. Castiel beat down on Dean with anger, with vengeance, with alpha wrath and rage. There was no love. There was no gentleness. There was only hate. So for the first time in his life, Dean stopped fighting.

  
When the spanking was over, Castiel carefully pulled Dean off of his knees and set him on the bed, picking up the items he had used to deal out the omega's punishment, and stormed out, leaving Dean alone, by himself, with only his thoughts to keep him company. A few moments later, he returned to tuck Dean into bed for the night (as he had established that Dean was to go to bed immediately after his punishment), but he smacked the alpha's hand away, curling in on himself on top of the wrinkled comforter.

  
Dean wrapped himself up into a protective, trembling, sobbing little ball of distraught omega. Snot and tears dripped down his face, and his eyes were narrowed defensively, shooting daggers at his attacker- the one who'd promised to never do him harm the day that they'd married...

  
"Get away from me!" Dean hissed, dry, hoarse voice cracking in rage. "Don't you fucking touch me... You don't damn deserve to touch me."

  
Again... Those yellow eyes plagued Dean's consciousness...

  
"I was going to rub some aloe onto your behind, Dean... It will help with the pain." Castiel pleaded, holding out the little green bottle to show to the hurt, frightened omega.

  
"No! I'm fine. Get out- I can take care of myself!" Dean shouted, grabbing a pillow to throw at the alpha's face and missing by at least a half of a foot.

  
"Dean-"

  
"You've delivered the message you wanted to send to me Castiel. I get it. I understand." Dean hissed, glaring at the alpha from where he lay on the mattress, naked and vulnerable. "Now **_get out_**. Leave me alone."

  
Castiel looked at Dean helplessly for a few moments more, then gave up. What could he do to calm down a distraught, angry omega who didn't want his help? Worse, a distraught, angry omega who'd been hurt by _him_. His only other option was to give Dean what he wanted. So, with a heavy sigh, Castiel left the omega alone for the rest of the night to sob on his bed and lick his wounds.

  
The night was long and filled with the internal and external suffering of painful flashbacks of haunting, yellow eyes and the throbbing, aching sting of Dean's backside. When the morning sun rose on the horizon, he'd already made his decision: if Castiel wanted a submissive, obedient little omega, then he'd get one. But not before Dean carved this very memory into his mind for the next several years to come, so that he would never, ever like or trust Castiel. Not if he become the loneliest little omega in the world. Not if he became so starved for the touch of another human being that he'd come begging on his hands and knees for the alpha to caress his flesh. Not if his heart longed to love somebody-anybody, ever again, even if Castiel was his only option.

  
**_Dean William Winchester would never be a pushover_**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you did, please leave me a comment and tell me all about it!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Somebody gets the shit beaten out of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like Chapter 8! Leave me a comment and let me know what you think!

When the sun rose it's bright, peeking head above the horizon the next morning, Dean had already hobbled out of the bathroom after having taken a nice, warm bath to soothe his aching behind and clean up from over a day of not bathing. His hair was soft and wet, hanging in lose strings over his forehead, which was tense from his tight, narrowed eyes and lowered eyebrows.

  
Anger coursed through him, rushing a mile a minute like a freight train through his head and pounded away at his heart, almost making him feel sick to his stomach. But whereas before getting his good, hard spanking from Castiel he would have acted on said feelings (perhaps by trashing his bathroom?), now he resigned himself to quiet rage by reining in his emotions, keeping them at bay like leashed, rabid hunting dogs with gnashing, furious teeth, opting to instead head to his dresser and closet to clothe himself, rather than pull something else he might regret later on.

  
His soft, delicate little butt ached and throbbed in pain as he made his way to his closet, pulling out today's less-than-usual-but-still-effeminate-outfit of a soft, dark-maroon sweater with a neckline that hung low around the chest-area, mimicking a scarf, and some black skinny jeans, to which a pair of small, furry little black socks had been attached to the waistline with a clothespin. Whoever picked out Dean's wardrobe either needed to be awarded for their obvious taste in the fashion of cute but simple clothes, or shot for projecting their tastes onto Dean. Either way, Dean was impressed/pissed. _Impressepissed_? He made a mental note to start using the new, made-up word in his vocabulary.

  
With a snarl of pain, Dean next slid over to his dresser, pulling open his underwear drawer with one hand (the other holding his sweater, socks, and jeans)-and holy fucking shit! With a sharp intake of horrified breath, Dean dropped his clothes to the floor and froze stock-still in shock. Replacing his comfortable, not-taboo-at-all briefs that had once-sat in that very same drawer were fucking _**panties**_. Small, delicate, lacy panties of all colors and designs... Ugly little scraps of non-functioning fabric that would barely cover his private bits, much less his larger, slick-producing, round, voluptuous, curvy behind in all of its goddamned glory.

  
Without so much as a second glance at the offending articles of clothing, Dean slammed the drawer shut, picked his clothes up off the floor with a huff and a snarl, and turned back to stalk over to his bed in a ticked-off sort of strut, forgetting the burning in his bottom long enough to jerk his jeans on, followed by his sweater.

  
_Fuck underwear. Fuck himself. Fuck his pitiful existence._

  
Today, and maybe for the rest of his life, he would be going commando. And if Castiel thought he could force Dean to- but he wasn't resisting Castiel anymore... Well, resistance or not, he _would not_  wear those disgusting excuses for clothing. _**Would not.**_  So there. Problem solved. But was it really? Dean liked having the security of underwear to catch any slick he produced, keeping it from seeping through his pants and making an embarrassing mess for all to see... It wasn't like the panties would do a good job of that, the material was much too thin to make much of a difference in the way of concealing the amount of lubrication his body produced from the innocent, every-day bystander's eyes.

  
_Fuck panties._

  
After pulling on and lacing up his boots, Dean headed out of his room and for the staircase, taking each swift step two at a time- a strategy in which he hoped to ensure that the pain in his behind would not catch up with him until he reached the bottom. It worked. Tiny tears had begun to leak out of the corners of his eyes, and his soft little butt was flaming by the time he got to the last stair, but he had still made it down, and that was the important thing. An added bonus was the harsh, bitter scent of a distressed, hurting omega, which now floated around him like a cloud of angry little attack pheromones. Such a smell would not be a pleasing one to any alpha- especially not Castiel, who seemed to be extra-sensitive around omega odors.

So with squared shoulders and a hard, cold look in his eyes, Dean limped into the dining room and made his way over to stand behind the seat opposite of Castiel, who sat at the end of the table reading the morning newspaper and sipping coffee. It wasn't unusual for most alphas to get up early to leave for work, but Castiel didn't have any place to be in a hurry, this week in particular, since he didn't have any cases to tackle at the moment. Not to mention, it was widely-known in his household that Catiel had a nasty habit of sleeping in- often well-past noon. _Something was up_.

  
"Good morning, sir." Dean said quietly, deciding to lay all of his cards down on the table at once with a softly-schooled voice, void of all emotion or stony challenge, replaced with a quiet indifference and chilled apathy. Castiel glanced up from behind his newspaper questioningly, one eyebrow raised in surprise. "You slept well, didn't you, alpha?" Unadulterated submission. That one would hit Castiel right between the eyes.

  
"I slept perfectly fine..." The alpha muttered, brows furrowing as if trying to figure out what kind of game Dean was playing here. "And you?"

  
"It doesn't matter how I slept, Mr. Novak." The omega replied meekly, averting his gaze and looking down at the floor. "May I please sit down, sir?"

  
"Of course, Dean." Castiel said, still warily peering at his wife from over the morning paper as the omega took a careful, dainty seat. "Would you like some breakfast?"

  
"Yes sir, if it would please you sir." Now _that_ sparked a bit of discomfort up in Castiel, if by the way he fidgeted in his chair was any indication. The alpha shrugged it off long enough to call Inias and ask him to bring Dean something to eat.

  
Castiel didn't go back to reading the paper while they waited for Dean's breakfast, only continued to warily stare the omega down from across the table, making him squirm uncomfortably underneath his stern gaze. Dean almost wished for his scent blockers as the sharp, bittersweet smell of his agitation filled the room, making him feel weakened and vulnerable as his emotions were put on display, free for just anyone who happened to be nearby at the time to take in as they wafted off of him in thick, disgusting, nauseating waves.

  
By the time his breakfast arrived, Dean was the furthest from hungry, stomach curling and clenching as he fought to keep from choking on his own pitiful scent. He stared down into his bowl absentmindedly, pushing the oatmeal and pineapple chunks around with his spoon, wrinkling up his nose at the gross, gray little bits. _Nasty_. He'd always hated oatmeal. And the glass of grapefruit juice that'd been served alongside of it? Who the fuck even drank grapefruit juice!?! _Weirdos like Sammy, that's who._

  
"Dean, are you alright?" Castiel murmured gently, voice low with concern as if not to scare a hurt, frightened animal. His voice snapped the omega back to the present moment, and he met his alpha's eyes immediately but not completely, rather staring through him towards the other side of the room as if he wasn't really there at all.

  
"Yes sir, I'm fine, sir." He whispered, cringing as more of that _distressed_  smell wafted off of him. He felt like he was going to hurl.

  
"You're lying." Castiel growled softly, getting up to come stand beside the omega worriedly. "Why are you calling me 'sir', and 'Mr. Novak'? Call me 'Castiel', Dean. I'm not your master."

  
Dean flinched, slowly turning his cold, green eyes onto his husband's angrily. "You might as well be."

  
The alpha went still, a look of hurt flashing across his face briefly before returning to his usual calm and collected, stoic expression, all in the span of a couple of seconds.

  
"What makes you say that, Dean?" He murmured, kneeling down beside the omega, cocking his head gently. It didn't escape Dean that Castiel's entire stance was held and carried in a way that instinctively assured Dean just how non-threatening the alpha was at the moment. Almost as if trying to calm the omega down before he lost it. It only served to infuriate Dean more.

  
"You dragged me away from my home, my family, my comfort zone... You take me here- 45 minutes away from the nearest town, in the fucking _country_! You made it impossible for me to keep my old job- used to be a mechanic, you know? Used to work on cars... Used to do something that I loved- which is more than I can say for you- since you fucking hate your job." Dean snarled, jolting out of his chair so quickly that it fell over backwards with a bang!

  
Castiel eyes widened in surprise, and he looked strangely taken aback for the first time since his and Dean's relationship had begun.

  
"What makes you think I hate my job?" He murmured gently.

  
"It's written all over your face, Castiel." Dean growled, grabbing his bowl of oatmeal and throwing it at the far wall, letting out a tiny snarl of dissatisfaction when it shattered upon impact.

  
Nothing. No reaction out of Castiel at all besides a small wince of pain when a particularly sharp piece of glass managed to slice open his bare foot, blood immediately leaking out of the wound and onto the alpha's perfect, immaculate floors, staining them until the next servant came to soullessly clean it up.

  
"Within the week and I-don't-know-how-many-days that we've been married, you've mentioned your job more times than I can count- and every time you do, your scent gets just a little more bitter than the last time you mentioned it. You _**hate it**_." The omega snarled, lip curling in fury at the man before him.

  
"I'm beginning to think you missed your calling as a psychologist." Castiel muttered, looking down at the floor. "Then again, psychologists know how to hold their tempers." He punctuated this with a glance back at his bleeding foot before lifting his head to glare grimly at the new dent in the wall made by the flying oatmeal bowl. Dean felt his omega seethe.

  
"How the hell can I keep my temper when you take everything I've ever loved away from me?" Dean hissed, shoving Castiel's shoulders with the heels of both hands, the omega's eyes widening in surprise at the unexpected action. But even more to his surprise, instead of doing the wise thing and backing down right then and there before everything got worse, he plowed right on ahead, letting the waves of rage crashing inside of him go on the kneeling man in front of him.

  
"I can't even shower how I want without that being regulated by your pathetic alpha rules. I'm forced to sit by you for every meal and watch you get served something awesome, while I'm being force-fed rabbit food. Can't even walk around the house a full day feeling comfortable in my own skin- you've even gone and taken my underwear away from me! So forgive me, if I can't hold my pitiful omega temper."

  
Castiel shook his head and stared silently down at the floor, taking a moment to process everything Dean had said before whispering softly, "I never said you were pitiful, little one."

  
Something inside of Dean snapped at the nickname. After all the alpha had done to him, after all the trauma he'd caused the both of them, after everything Dean had just said, he thought he still had the right to call the omega his " _little one_ "!?!

  
"Fuck you!" Dean shouted, raising a balled fist and striking Castiel across the cheek with a smack!

  
"Fuck you and your pet names!" Another, harder smack!

  
"Fuck you and your loads of money!" Dean pulled back his other hand, and instead of slapping the alpha with it, punched Castiel in the nose, breaking it upon collision with a crack! He should have stopped right there, should have just walked away before he did any more damage- but he was too far gone to reel himself back in now.

  
"Fuck you and your beautiful house!" He punched Castiel in the same place with his other hand, smearing his knuckles with the blood that had begun to dribble out of the alpha's nose.

  
"Fuck you and your stupid rules!" _Smack_.

  
"Fuck you and your misogynistic mindset!" _Smack_.

  
"Fuck you for jerking me away from my family!" _Smack_.

  
"Fuck you for your stupidly good looks." _Smack_.

  
"Fuck you for turning my insides to mush every time I damn look at you, much less hear that amazing fucking voice of yours in my ear." _Smack_.  _Smack_.  _Smack_.

  
"And most of all, fuck you for making it so easy to hate you!" Dean shouted, delivering the final blow to the alpha's cheek, knocking him easily down onto the ground, where he now lay limp and unmoving... Castiel didn't try to get up, didn't rise to defend himself, didn't even turn to look at Dean from where his bruised cheek rested on the floor. Blood trickled out of his nose and mouth onto the floor, splattering it with horrifying little red drops.

  
The right thing for Dean to do, would have been to help the alpha up and haul him to a hospital. The right thing for Dean to do, would have been to grab a packet of ice from the freezer and apply it to the cuts on his busted lips, or the bruises to his cheeks. The right thing for Dean to do, would have been to stick around and apologize for what he'd done, instead of noticing the tears dripping down the alpha's cheeks, the gross disfigurement of his features that almost made him unrecognizable, and the drying, crusting blood on his very own knuckles, and fleeing, running to get as far away from Castiel Emmanuel Novak as he could...

  
Dean made a beeline for Castiel's garage, where he broke into and hot wired the first car he came into contact with. An hour later, after running too many stop signs, red lights, and narrowly missing hitting a good many people, he pulled up to his father's house, jerked the vehicle to a halt, and bolted up to the front door, proceeding to pound on it like his life depended on it.

  
John answered a moment later, haired mussed-up and eyes squinting as if he'd just woken up from a particularly satisfying nap. His mouth held a deep-set, murderous, grumpy frown of annoyance, presumably from the loud, obnoxious banging on his door.

  
He'd never liked when people were too impatient to use the doorbell- usually preferred to chase them screaming off of his porch with a shotgun rather than give them a moment of his time. When he saw who was standing there, however, his eyes widened in surprise and he opened the door wider, setting said shotgun off to the side of it as discreetly as possible. He wasn't fooling anybody though, especially Dean, who'd witnessed him abuse the power of his weapon a good too-many times not to know he'd almost landed himself on the receiving end of the same, gruff treatment.

  
"Dean." John muttered, nodding his head in greeting before stifling a tired yawn behind his fist. "What are you doing here?"

  
"I need somebody to talk to that I can trust not to turn me into the police..." Dean muttered sourly, turning his face down to stare at his feet, scuffling his boot against the wood of his father's front porch in awkward, tense shame, and wincing when he got the exact reaction he expected.

  
" _ **Damnit Dean**_!" John growled, waving his hand at his son to step into his house, leading the way to the living room before flopping down onto the couch with an exasperated sigh. "What the hell've you done now?"

  
"I might've-"

  
"Holy hell, is that blood!?!" John exclaimed, grabbing Dean's hands and bringing his knuckles up to eye-level in order to see them better. "Fuck, it is! What did you do!?! Beat your husband up?"

  
When Dean didn't say anything to negate his statement, John looked up at his son in shock, dropping his hands and leaning against the couch back, too stunned to say anything. When he'd finally regained the ability to speak, he growled, "Dean, that was meant to be a fucking joke. You mean to tell me that you _actually_  roughed Castiel fucking Novak up!?!"

  
"Yeah, I did." Dean bit out defensively, omega hackles rising at his father's firm, stiff, dominant, alpha voice. "Is there a fucking problem with that?"

  
John immediately leapt up when his son confirmed his worse fears and began angrily pacing back and forth in front of the couch, alpha up and bristling. He didn't speak for a long time, shooting glares at Dean in between furious, stifling minutes, which was his way of letting his children know that they'd fucked up _**bad**_.

  
"Dean, your husband is a fucking _lawyer_. Do you know what he could do to you in court!?!" John finally burst out, snapping up his head to give Dean the most shudder-inducing death glare of his life, pointing his finger at him menacingly. "At the very least, you could be put away _for life_ ,  _pup_! If you're lucky, the only other repercussions of your actions could be that you become some knothead's little bitch in prison!

"At the very most, you could be sentenced to death! But before that, they'll beat you within an inch of your life. If you thought _my_ spankings felt bad, then you've never had to experience what they do to naughty little omegas like you in prison!

"And do you know what the worst part of all of this is, _pup?_ " John seethed, getting real close to his son's face, hazel eyes locking onto green.

  
Dean shook his head no, defiantly refusing to break his father's gaze.

  
"You won't even get a fair trial!" John barked, alpha roaring with a proud, holy, fatherly anger, making Dean wince. "That judge will take one look at you, an _omega pup_ , and then take one look at your husband, America's _alpha golden-boy_ , and that will be the end of that. He won't even look at the evidence brought to support you. You will be locked away before you can even whine the words, ' _I'm not guilty_.'"

  
John stalked closer, taking a hold of his omega son's shoulders with an extremely-too-careful, calculated gentleness that was very clearly an effort to not strangle Dean, and lowered his voice, speaking more out of concern, the underlying tremble in his words a dead giveaway to just how afraid he was for his eldest child, "And boy, I won't be able to do one damn thing about it... Maybe if this were to be a regular trial, I could bribe the jury to keep you safe... But this wouldn't be a regular trial. Who are they going to believe? Me, an every-day, ordinary alpha father? Or Castiel, a well-known, beautiful-beyond-compare, celebrity lawyer, who is _very_ , _**very**_ good at his job? There'd be no competition at all... And just like that, your foolishness, your inability to hold your temper, could very well be what takes my boy away from me."

  
Dean couldn't stop himself. "So what? Prison seems a hell of a lot better than living with Castiel."

  
"What did that boy do to you that was so bad that you would rather rot in the slammer than be married to him?" John demanded, forcing himself away from Dean in a clear effort not to throttle him for his insolence.

  
"He's been an overbearing, typical knothead since our wedding night, restricted my diet, clothing choices, taken everything I love away from me, and..." Dean scowled at this, "...He spanked me last night."

  
They stood in awkward silence for a good couple of minutes, John staring at his son, Dean refusing to meet his gaze (a common type of standoff they'd had many a time before the omega had moved out), before John finally sighed and shook his head, effectively ending the battle of avoided eye contact.

  
"Damnit, _that's_  what all of the fuss is about? A few lost privileges and a spanking? Damn kids these days don't know how to compromise or talk to each other worth their damn lives.

"Go take a shower. Your face is gross- tear stained and red- makes you look weak, like you've been crying." He growled dismissively, reaching a hand up to his face to rub the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "I'm going to give Castiel a call while you're in, try to reason with him a bit. When you're done cleaning yourself up, you're going to get back inside that car you stole (John knew Dean well enough that he didn't have to be told when his son had stolen a car) and head right back where you belong. I imagine that you and your husband will have quite a bit to talk about."

  
Dean nodded his head and sighed in defeat, reluctantly dragging his feet and heading for the bathroom. He knew when not to fight his father- John had already made up his mind. Trying to argue with him would get the omega nowhere.

  
Dean took a quick shower, scrubbing away at his skin until it was in pristine condition, wincing when he gently slid the washcloth over his ass, and got out, pulling on his favorite pair of old, ratty jeans and one of the Metallica shirts he used to love- John must have snuck them into the bathroom while he was showering.

  
When he got out to the living room, he spotted John sitting on the couch, watching tv where he left him. He looked up when Dean entered the room and nodded his head towards the front door before glancing back at the screen, just in time to see one of the zombies from The Walking Dead sink his teeth into someone. The alpha's body language displayed a clear order to go, leaving no room for disobedience. None whatsoever. Dean's omega nervously flattened its ears.

  
"Dad- look, I'm sorry. Can I just stay here? I don't want to go back and face-"

  
"Can it Dean. You've got to go home. Can't hide forever. Castiel is waiting for you." John said, not taking his eyes off of the tv as he popped a chip into his mouth from the bowl in his lap.

  
"Dad... You should have seen him... You should have seen what I did to him..." Dean whimpered, omega instinctively trying to appeal to his father's caring, protective alpha side. John stiffened.

  
"No, Dean. You've got to go home- can't avoid the inevitable 'talk' forever... That was one of those things I learned from your mama. The longer I took to fix things between us, the harder it was to make it up to her. You've got to go, Dean. _**Now**_." John commanded sternly, lifting a finger to jab it at the dark, looming door at the end of the hallway. From his stiff, firm voice, the omega wouldn't have been surprised if he started counting to three.

  
Dean nodded his head glumly, knowing full well his father wouldn't back down from his decision, and resigned himself to heading out as he was told. Once in the car, however, he debated paying Sam a visit in his apartment... The alpha would let him stay the night, no questions asked- then he wouldn't have to face Castiel until the morning- but decided at the last moment not to. When his father caught him, and he would, he would give Dean the thrashing of his life- and the omega didn't think his behind could handle another spanking like the one he received last night within 48 hours of one another. Maybe longer.

  
So, with a sigh, Dean drove all the way back to Castiel's house, fighting the incessant urge to vomit the entire way there from the nervousness and the fear of facing the man that he had brutally beaten the crap out of. Not a fun thing to think about as you're stepping up to the front door and raising your hand to knock... Dean was sure that he was going to go into cardiac arrest. But, before he could bring his fist down upon the dark wooden door, it swung open, and there, before his very eyes, was Castiel.

  
The alpha and the omega stood at a silent stand-off, neither glaring nor angry, just quiet, still. Castiel's face had swelled up painfully, black and purple and yellow from the horrible, horrible bruises that covered almost all of his features. His lips were chapped and cut open, eyes were nearly swollen shut, and his nose... It was covered in the most hideous bandage, with a white strip of cloth wrapped over the bridge. He was hideous... Dean's stomach lurched.

  
"I think we need to talk..." Castiel murmured softly. His scent, or a lack there of, didn't portray any emotions at all, and Dean thought absently to himself that he was wearing a scent blocker, which was unusual, considering the alpha's adamant disapproval of them. The lack of his normally-calming smell only served to unnerve Dean further.

  
"You think?" Dean joked weakly, staring down at the ground awkwardly.

  
Castiel didn't respond, only turning and walking back into the house, leaving the door open in an obvious invitation to follow him. Dean lagged behind the alpha until they entered the living room and Castiel took a seat on the couch, glancing down at the cushion beside him- a silent invitation for the omega to join him. Dean did, folding his hands in his lap and staring down at them silently, until Castiel tentatively placed his hand over Dean's.

  
The omega cautiously glanced up into the alpha's eyes, immediately strangely knocked breathless by the deep expanse of blue that he hadn't noticed since the day they'd met. But this time, instead of cocky arrogance, he saw a soft, sad ocean, waves crashing and sorrowful, ready to spill over and run down red, blotchy cheeks... almost as if Castiel had been crying. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, calm, pained.

  
"Dean, I fucked up. I've never been in a relationship before- all the intimacy I have ever experienced with anyone were one night stands or casual sex... I've never had to care for somebody- it's never been my responsibility to love anyone before, and when I put that ring on your finger... Well, I wasn't ready." He whispered, glancing down at Dean's fingers as he wove his own through them. The omega was surprised that he let him.

  
"When I took you into my house, I thought I could tame you. I thought that if I could control you, I could make you safer from- well, safer period. Your father has told me a lot about you, and I learned about how reckless you can sometimes be... I thought that if I forced you into submission, then I'd be doing my job by being a good alpha to you- that by keeping you out of harm's way, my job would be over. I... I was wrong."

  
Castiel looked away, turning his head to thoughtfully stare out of an open window and into the distance.

  
"You weren't one to be contained... You fought back with all of your strength, and rightfully so. We've fought, we've clashed, we've hurt one another, and we haven't done a very good job of getting along... This isn't a battle that either of us can win, no matter how much fighting either of us do- we're both too hard-headed to give in... I'm ashamed that it took getting my face beat in by my wife and the angriest, most threatening phone call of my life from your father for me to see that...

"If you want to discontinue our relationship now, I'm willing to give you an out. But as for me, I'm not ready to give up just yet. If you agree to it, I would like for us to start over. From the beginning. No hang-ups, no commands, no restrictions, just you and me..." Castiel said, voice trailing off as he finally turned back to look Dean in the eyes, imploring blue oceans meeting a forest of green.

  
"How do we even start over, Cas? I beat the shit out of you... How do we come back from that? You left me the week after our wedding like I didn't matter to you... How do we start over from that point in our relationship?" Dean whispered, turning his face away from the alpha so that he didn't have to look at his broken, once-handsome features any longer.

  
"We do what your father told us to do: we compromise." Castiel murmured, gently taking a hold of Dean's face and guiding it so that they could look each other in the eyes again.

  
"How do you suggest we do that? I couldn't even compromise for my own father. Why the fuck do you think he wrote a book series about a rebel omega? It was based off of me, Cas." Dean argued, closing his eyes tightly to avoid the alpha's gaze.

  
"Dean, listen to me. You _did_ compromise with your father. You got married to a man you didn't even know because he asked you to. You did it because you loved him, even though you didn't want to. Likewise, he gave you his car to drive and all of the freedom in the world, because he loved you and he wanted you to be happy.

"You have both compromised with one another over and over again for as long as you've known each other, and it _works_. Your relationship isn't perfect, but no relationship is. You've stuck together, two strong wills getting along for years, because the two of you are willing to bend for the other person...

"We need to figure out how to do that for one another from here on out. It's going to be hard, but we can do it. I don't expect our relationship to immediately become peachy after we agree to try to get along, but with patience, maybe we can fix this mess."

  
Dean shook his head out of Castiel's grip, turning his body away from the alpha to bury his face in his hands, rubbing his temples for a few moments, thinking about what his husband had proposed, pondering its implications, what it would mean for the two of them.

  
"Fine. Let's do this. Let's start over." He said, looking back up at Castiel slowly. "How do we begin?"

  
"Well, we create small compromises. If you move to my room and sleep in the same bed with me, you get to wear whatever you want to. If I let you eat whatever you want to, you have to sit with me at night and watch a movie or spend some time with me. If you let me hold you, hug you, then you get to drive your own cars. Small things like that." The alpha said slowly. "Does that sound good?"

  
"Yeah Cas." Dean murmured with a smile. "That sounds real good."

  
"I'm glad." Castiel said softly, lifting his eyes to the omega's. "No more secrets either... And I've been keeping a pretty big one."

  
"What? Please don't tell me you're secretly a woman." Dean said with a laugh, but sobered when Castiel didn't laugh along with him. "You've got to be kidding me right now- you've got a fucking vagina!?!"

  
"No Dean, I don't have a ' _fucking vagina_ '." Castiel said, rolling his eyes as well as he could from behind his swollen cheeks. "I have a much bigger secret than that. Follow me."

  
And with that, he got up from the couch and walked up the stairs to the second floor, taking each step two at a time. He made his way down the hallway, stopping at the dark, mahogany door marked with the number 20.

  
He took a deep breath, turning to look Dean in the eyes. "Ready?"

  
"Cas, you don't have to do this."

  
"I want to." Castiel snapped, eyes narrowing. "I _have_  to, Dean. Now are you ready or not?"

  
"Yeah Cas, I am."

  
Castiel nodded his head, and with a determined swing of his arm, turned the knob and threw the door open.

  
Dean's jaw dropped in shock.

  
Covering every inch of the walls were newspaper clippings, pieces of paper with angry red letters pinned in place, strips of dark blue string connecting the dots, linking every single article to one another in some way...

  
If one name in big, bold black letters headlining the front page of a nearby tabloid hadn't caught Dean's eye, he might have thought Castiel to be insane- or one of those creepy conspiracy theorists (which is essentially the same thing as being insane)... And the alpha might as well be, because the name, the man that every last paper on the walls were about, was none other than Zachariah Novak, his _very own father_...

  
Dean's omega's hackles rose in apprehension. Something was off here... Something about this room, about the shadiness and the absurdity of everything inside of it, was very, very wrong. He wanted to turn around, to get out of here before he passed the point of no return- the point that could be classified as, " _the moment when Dean learned too much_." But he couldn't stop himself, even as he felt his feet mysteriously moving on their own, venturing across the far room to a white, plastic, folding table, pressed against the only patch of bare wall in the hell hole that was Room 20. On top of it lay three, very-unordinary objects all lined up in a neat little row. Two black-and-white photographs and a 9mm pistol.

  
Dean froze, going rigid with caution as he rose a trembling hand to pick up the photos, drawing them closer to his narrowed eyes, body twitching warily as it tried to make up its mind on whether to fight or flee. The first picture was of an ordinary field- a seemingly peaceful place filled with long, tall grass and surrounded by an old fence that looked like it was about ready to fall apart, boards barely held together by loose, rusting nails. The second picture-

  
Dean dropped the photos with a sharp inhale of shock, snatching up the 9mm and whirling around to face Castiel, cocking the gun mid-turn and pointing it right between the alpha's swollen eyes with a hostile, frightened snarl.

  
"Who in the motherfucking hell are you!?!" The omega demanded, slipping his finger around the trigger, steeling himself to get ready to kill the dangerous, dangerous man that he had landed for a husband.

  
"Dean, calm down. Let me explain." Castiel lifted his hands up defensively, moving slowly towards Dean in what he seemed to think was a soothing way. But the omega couldn't smell him, and therefore had no hang-ups for the advancing alpha.

  
_Bang! Bang!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me a comment and let me know how you liked chapter 8! 
> 
> P.S. For all of you that wanted to see Castiel hurt, you're welcome for this fine present I have crafted (I'm joking).

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this fic. If you liked it, please leave a comment and tell me what you thought of it. (:


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